The  Aan 
of  the  Family 

Christian  Reid 


~  -  ^  vrujr*. 

'         ' 


f.    fa 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  FAMILY 


A  NOVEL 


BY 


CHRISTIAN   REID 

Author  of  "A  Woman  of  Fortune,"  "  Armine,"  "  Philip's 

Restitution,"  "  The  Child  of  Mary,"  "Heart  of 

Steel,"  "  The  Land  of  the  Sun,"  etc. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 
Untcfcerbocher  press 
1897 


COPYRIGHT,  1897 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Ube  Imfcfterbocfeer  presa,  «ew  Borft 


URL 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  FAMILY, 


THE   MAN    OF  THE   FAMILY. 


PART  I 

CHAPTEE  I. 

No  one  who  has  seen  the  beautiful  Bayou  Teche  country 
of  Louisiana — the  land  where  the  exiled  Acadians  found  a 
second  and  fairer  home — can  ever  forget  its  charming  and 
picturesque  aspects  :  the  broad  stretches  of  its  verdant 
levels  ;  its  fields  luxuriant  with  cane  or  green  with  rice  ; 
its  pastoral  expanses  of  meadow  and  plain  ;  above  all,  its 
spacious,  old-fashioned  homes,  which,  with  their  broad 
roof-trees  and  wide  galleries,  stand  beneath  the  spreading 
shade  of  giant  live-oaks,  gazing  out  upon  the  wide,  silvery 
reaches  of  the  river. 

At  the  landing  in  front  of  one  of  these  residences,  the 
steamboat  which  plies  up  and  down  the  Bayou  dropped  one 
day  a  visitor — a  man  of  middle  age  and  business-like  ap- 
pearance— who  walked  towards  the  house,  which  stood  a 
hundred  or  so  yards  distant  from  the  stream,  under  the 
shade  of  its  great  trees.  No  one  was  to  be  perceived  in  or 
around  it ;  and  an  air  of  slumberous  quiet  seemed  to  per- 
vade the  whole  place,  although  the  doors  and  windows 
were  all  open  to  the  golden  sunshine  of  the  autumn  day. 
As  the  visitor  approached  he  paused  now  and  then  to  sur- 


8  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

vey  comprehensively  the  mansion  in  the  midst  of  its  lawn, 
the  tangled  garden  in  its  rear,  and  the  level  green  country, 
a  very  Arcadia  of  fertility  and  beauty,  which  spread  on 
each  side  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  ;  while  the  smoke 
from  the  chimneys  of  the  various  sugar-mills  in  sight  rose 
into  the  exquisite  atmosphere,  a  token  that  it  was  the 
height  of  the  sugar-making  season. 

"  A  fine  plantation,"  observed  the  new-comer  to  him- 
self, as  his  glance  passed  over  the  fields  of  cane  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  ;  "  and  well  kept  up,  considering 
that  it  is  in  the  hands  of  a  woman.  Hum-hum  !  The 
money  will  not  be  badly  invested.  Interest  for  ten  years, 
and  at  last — this  !  But  who  comes  here  ?" 

The  figure  on  which  his  eye  had  suddenly  fallen  was  ad- 
vancing towards  the  house  from  the  direction  of  the  sugar- 
mill,  which  stood  at  one  side,  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
distant — a  slim,  straight  feminine  figure,  dressed  in  a  dark 
skirt  and  light  shirt-waist,  with  an  immensely  broad- 
brimmed  shade  hat,  such  as  the  laborers  throughout  the 
country  wore.  Under  this  hat,  as  its  wearer  drew  nearer, 
he  perceived  the  delicate -featured  face  of  a  girl,  whose  dark 
eyes  regarded  him  with  anything  but  a  look  of  welcome. 
They  met  in  the  middle  of  the  lawn,  and  he  lifted  his  hat 
in  salutation. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Yvonne  ?"  he  said,  with  an  ease 
of  manner  for  which  there  seemed  scant  warrant.  "  I  see 
that  you  are  busy,  as  usual,  overlooking  things.  Quite 
the  '  man  of  the  family ' — ha,  ha  !  I've  often  said  that 
your  business  qualities  are  most  remarkable — for  a  young 
lady.  I  hope  your  mother  is  well  ?" 

"  Is  my  mother  expecting  you  ?"  asked  the  young  lady. 

"  N — o,"  with  a  little  hesitation.  "  I  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  coming  without  notifying  her.  Business  called 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  9 

me  to  Bayou  Teche  at  this  time,  and  I  decided  that  it  was 
a  good  opportunity  to  have  a  personal  interview  with  Ma- 
dame Prevost.  Letters  are  apt  to  be — ah — unsatisfactory, 
and  things  can  be  better  arranged  sometimes  by  talking 
them  over." 

"  If  you  will  come  in,"  said  the  girl,  ignoring  this  as 
she  had  ignored  his  other  remark,  "  I  will  let  my  mother 
know  that  you  are  here." 

They  had  now  reached  the  steps  which  led  down  from 
the  pillared  front  of  the  dwelling  to  the  lawn  ;  and,  ascend- 
ing them  together,  crossed  the  gallery  to  the  door,  which 
stood  hospitably  wide  open,  displaying  a  spacious  hall  that 
rose  to  the  second  story,  and  extended  throughout  the 
house.  Leading  the  way,  Yvonne  ushered  the  self-invited 
guest  across  this  hall  and  into  a  large,  lofty  room  of  fine 
proportions. 

"  My  mother  will  no  doubt  see  you  in  a  few  minutes," 
she  said  ;  and  then,  closing  the  door,  left  him  alone. 

He  stood  where  she  had  left  him,  taking  in  the  aspect 
of  this  apartment,  so  different  from  any  to  which  he  was 
accustomed,  and  so  full  of  the  subtle  aroma  of  the  past 
that  it  was  able  to  impress  even  his  dull  soul  with  a  sense 
of  something  apart  from  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  objects 
at  which  he  looked.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  the  modern 
world  perceptible  in  this  stately  salon,  with  its  lofty  ceiling 
panelled  in  fine  stucco  relief.  Every  article  of  furniture 
which  it  contained  was  clearly  an  importation  from  France, 
and  at  least  a  century  old.  To  one  who  could  appreciate 
such  associations,  how  many  suggestions  of  the  Paris  over 
which  Marie  Antoinette  reigned  gayly  as  the  fair  young 
Dauphiness,  and  of  the  romantic  days  of  colonial  New 
France,  dwelt  in  these  tables  with  their  curving  legs,  the 
inlaid  cabinets,  the  gilt-framed  mirrors,  the  chairs  with 


10  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

harmoniously  faded  wreaths  of  flowers  upon  the  ivory  satin 
which  covered  their  cushions,  all  reflected  in  a  floor  pol- 
ished until  it  shone  like  a  sheet  of  ice. 

Strangely  incongruous  amid  such  surroundings  was  the 
figure  of  the  man  gazing  upon  them — typical  of  the  least 
admirable  of  modern  conditions.  No  hint  of  anything  de- 
rived from  or  owing  to  ancestry  was  to  be  discerned  in  those 
blunt  plebeian  features,  sharpened  only  by  an  expression  of 
shrewd,  hard  cupidity.  "A  man  of  business,"  he  would 
have  defined  himself  with  pride  ;  and  a  man  of  business, 
in  the  narrowest  sense  of  that  abused  term  he  was,  one  for 
whom  the  word  '*  business"  covered  not  only  stern  bar- 
gains ruthlessly  driven,  all  advantage  of  others'  necessities 
taken,  and  every  possible  amount  of  usury  that  could  be 
exacted,  but  also  all  transactions,  however  dishonest,  which 
the  letter  of  the  law  did  not  declare  illegal.  And  yet  this 
man  now  stood  as  virtual  master  in  a  house  where  men  of 
another  order  had  upheld  in  all  the  acts  of  their  lives  the 
highest  code  of  a  fine  and  delicate  honor,  and,  when  the 
necessity  arose,  had  counted  life  and  life's  best  possessions 
as  nothing  for  the  sake  of  principle  and  a  cause. 

It  was  not  long  before,  shaking  off  the  influence  which 
had  momentarily  touched  him,  and  which  was  chiefly  due 
to  certain  recollections  of  his  youth  connected  with  this 
house,  he  walked  with  heavy  tread  across  the  floor,  greet- 
ing with  a  glance  of  recognition  one  or  two  portraits  as  he 
passed  them  ;  and,  as  if  fearing  to  trust  his  weight  to  any 
of  the  slim-legged  chairs,  stood  by  one  of  the  windows, 
looking  out  once  more  over  the  fair,  level  country.  But 
he  was  not  at  this  instant  thinking  so  much  of  the  rich 
acres  before  his  gaze  as  of  the  unwise  disdain  that  he  had 
read  in  a  girl's  dark  eyes. 

"  In  any  case,  whether  my  offer  is  accepted  or  not,  your 


THE  MAN   OF  THE  FAMILY.  11 

reign  is  nearly  over,  my  young  lady,"  he  was  thinking, 
with  a  sense  of  triumph.  "  D n  your  cursed  aristo- 
cratic pride  !  I  am  glad  that  you  are  not  the  one  who  is 
to  stay  here  !" 

The  girl  whom  he  thus  addressed  in  his  thoughts  had 
meanwhile  crossed  the  hall  and  entered  a  smaller  apart- 
ment, the  windows  of  which  overlooked  the  green  vistas  of 
the  garden.  It  was  the  sitting-room  of  Madame  Provost. 
She  was  seated  now  before  an  open  escritoire  of  finely  carved 
ebony,  so  old,  so  quaint,  so  charming  that  it  would  have  de- 
lighted an  antiquarian  ;  and  was  engaged  in  writing  a  letter, 
from  which  she  did  not  lift  her  eyes  when  Yvonne  entered. 

So  it  was  that  for  a  minute  the  girl  stood  looking  at  her 
silently,  with  an  expression  of  infinitely  wistful  compas- 
sion. In  truth  her  heart  was  wrung  with  that  sense  of 
unavailing  pity  which  is  one  of  the  most  painful  of  human 
emotions.  It  was  an  emotion  which  even  a  stranger  might, 
in  some  degree,  have  felt  for  Madame  Prevost,  so  plainly 
were  the  marks  of  corroding  care  set  upon  her  ;  but  to  one 
who  loved  her  with  passionate  devotion,  earth  could  fur- 
nish no  sight  more  sad  than  that  delicate,  worn  counte- 
nance, crowned  by  its  hair  prematurely  gray.  That  she 
had  in  her  youth  possessed  a  rare  loveliness  there  was  no 
room  to  doubt.  Any  one  familiar  with  the  pictures  of  the 
famous  beauties  of  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  century 
France  must  have  been  struck  by  her  resemblance  to  their 
type.  On  a  hundred  canvases  and  squares  of  ivory  we  may 
see  those  fine  patrician  features,  those  delicate  brows,  that 
forehead  of  beautiful  contour,  those  perfectly  moulded  out- 
lines, and  that  slender  neck  which  bore  the  head  so  loftily. 
Upon  how  many  of  those  fair  necks  the  axe  of  the  guillo- 
tine fell !  But  we  do  not  read  that  one  of  them  ever 
drooped  in  craven  fear. 


12  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

Looking  at  Madame  Prevost,  it  was  easily  to  be  perceived 
that  she,  too,  would  have  faced  the  mob  howling  for  the 
blood  of  aristocrats,  the  tumbril  and  the  scaffold,  with  the 
same  proud  composure,  the  same  matchless  dignity  tem- 
pered with  disdain  of  those  noble  ladies  of  the  ancien  regime 
whom  she  so  strikingly  resembled.  She  had  indeed  faced 
in  her  youth  scenes  hardly  less  terrible.  She  had  lost 
father  and  brothers  on  the  battle-field  ;  she  had  wedded 
the  lover  of  her  choice  in  the  midst  of  the  roar  of  cannon, 
the  red  horror  and  tumult  of  war  ;  and  in  the  same  hour 
sent  him  back  to  his  post  in  the  front,  not  to  meet  again 
until,  when  all  was  lost  save  honor,  he  returned  to  her, 
ruined  in  fortune  and  broken  in  health.  She  had  faced 
then  the  last  and  perhaps  worst  enemy  of  all  :  the  poverty 
which  entails  perpetual  struggle — a  struggle  that,  together 
with  his  old  wounds,  had  after  a  few  years  killed  her  hus- 
band ;  and  which,  when  she  had  laid  him  away  with  the 
comrades  he  had  tardily  joined,  she  continued  to  face  for 
her  widowed,  sonless  mother  and  her  four  young  daughters. 
The  signs  of  this  struggle  were  graven  in  deep  lines  upon 
a  countenance  still  full  of  ineffaceable  beauty  and  yet  more 
ineffaceable  distinction,  on  which  was  also  to  be  read  the 
impress  of  the  courage,  the  fortitude,  and  the  patience  with 
which  she  had  met  the  misfortunes  that  had  fallen  upon 
but  never  overwhelmed  her. 

Since  a  minute  passed  and  she  still  continued  to  write 
without  lifting  her  eyes,  Yvonne  crossed  the  floor  and 
looked  over  her  shoulder.  She  was  not  surprised  to  find 
that  her  mother  was  addressing  the  man  whom  she  had 
just  ushered  into  the  house. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said  quickly,  "  there  is  no  need  to 
write  that  letter.  Mr.  Burnham  is  here." 

Madame  Prevost  started  so  violently  that  a  blot  of  ink 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  13 

dropped  from  her  pen  upon  the  fair  sheet  of  paper  half 
covered  with  her  small,  regular  writing.  She  turned  and 
looked  up  at  her  daughter  with  an  expression  of  amazement. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Yvonne  ?"  she  asked.  "  Mr.  Burn- 
ham  here  !" 

"  Yes,  mamma,  he  is  here.  I  came  to  tell  you.  I  was 
at  the  sugar-house  when  the  steamer  came  by,  and  I  saw 
that  it  dropped  some  one  at  the  landing.  Since  we  were 
expecting  no  one,  I  thought  I  had  better  see  who  had  ar- 
rived ;  so  I  came  over  at  once  and  met  this  man  on  the 
lawn.  He  is  in  the  drawing-room  now,  waiting  for 
you." 

"  Did  you  ask  him  why  he  had  come  ?"  inquired  Madame 
Prevost,  pushing  aside  her  letter  with  hands  which  trem- 
bled excessively. 

' '  No.  I  only  asked  him  if  you  were  expecting  him,  and 
he  replied  that  you  were  not  ;  that,  business  having  called 
him  to  Bayou  Teche,  he  thought  he  would  take  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  to  call  and  see  you — or  something  to 
that  effect.  Courage,  dear  !  After  all,  it  is  no  worse  to 
see  him  than  to  write  to  him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  much  worse  !"  said  Madame  Prevost, 
rising  to  her  feet.  "  His  coming  is  a  bad  sign — a  very 
bad  sign,  Yvonne  !" 

"  Let  us  hope  not,  mamma.  Perhaps  it  is  only,  as  he 
says,  that  he  was  in  the  neighborhood  on  other  business, 
and  so  thought  a  personal  interview  with  you  would  be  bet- 
ter than  an  exchange  of  letters." 

Madame  Prevost  shook  her  head. 

"  I  doubt  if  he  has  any  other  business  here  than  to  see 
me — and  the  plantation,"  she  said.  "It  looks  badly,  his 
coming.  There  would  be  no  necessity  for  an  interview  if 
he  were  content  to  continue  taking  his  interest  ;  but  if  he 


14  THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

demands  his  money,  Yvonne,  the  end  has  come.  We  are 
ruined." 

"  Don't  think  that  he  will  demand  it  until  he  tells  you 
so,"  said  Yvonne,  putting  her  arm  around  the  slender, 
trembling  figure.  "  Mamma  dearest,  it  is  not  like  you  to 
be  so  unnerved.  Shall  I  see  him  for  you  and  ask  what  is 
his  business  ?" 

"  No,  no  !"  answered  Madame  Prevost.  "  I  must  see 
him  myself.  It  is  foolish  to  be  so  unnerved  ;  but  I  think 
my  courage  is  not  what  it  was,  and  I  have  been  fearing  this 
so  long." 

"  Ah,  God  help  us  !"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  passionate 
intonation.  "  So  long  indeed  !  Oh,  what  would  I  not  do 
to  spare  you  all  this  horrible  anxiety  and  suffering  !  But 
I  can  do  nothing — nothing  !  And  you  must  go  and  be  tor- 
tured for  no  fault  of  your  own  by  this  low-born  usurer " 

"  Hush,  hush,  Yvonne  !"  Calm  came  back  to  Madame 
Prevost  at  the  sight  of  her  daughter's  excitement.  ''Let 
us  never  forget  justice.  The  man  has  a  right  to  demand 
his  money  ;  and  if  he  shows  little  consideration  and  no 
generosity  in  doing  so,  we  must  remember  and  allow  for 
the  fact  that  he  is  low  born  and  low  bred.  Perhaps,  as 
you  say,  I  anticipate  the  worst  without  cause.  We  will 
soon  know,  for  I  must  see  him  at  once.  Do  I  look  com- 
posed ?  I  should  not  like  to  show  any  signs  of  agitation." 
She  held  out  her  delicate  hand  and  regarded  it  for  an  in- 
stant. "  Yes,  it  is  quite  steady  again.  So  now  I  will  go. 
Do  you  stay  here,  dear  ;  and  I  will  return  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble to  let  you  know  the  object  and  result  of  his  visit. 
Whatever  it  is,  my  child,  we  must  meet  it  with  courage, 
you  and  I,  for  the  sake  of  the  others." 

She  kissed  tenderly  the  wistful  young  face,  smiled  reas- 
suringly, as  long  habit  had  taught  her  how  to  smile,  and 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  15 

left  the  room  with  a  step  as  firm,  a  bearing  as  composed, 
as  if  she  were  going  to  meet  a  friend  instead  of  a  foe,  an 
honor  instead  of  a  humiliation. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

IT  was  with  the  same  bearing,  the  same  composure  of 
manner  and  expression,  that  Madame  Prevost  entered  the 
fine  old  room,  where  the  unwelcome  guest  still  stood  by  one 
of  the  windows,  looking  out  upon  the  verdant  levels  of  the 
smiling  country.  She  was  half  way  across  the  polished 
floor  before,  hearing  her  light  step,  he  turned  and  advanced 
to  meet  her. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Burnham  ?"  she  said  with  grave 
courtesy.  "  It  was  a  surprise  to  me  to  hear  from  my 
daughter  that  you  were  here,  since  I  was  on  the  point  of 
writing  to  you." 

"  So  I  supposed,"  replied  Mr.  Bnrnham,  thinking  bet- 
ter of  an  idea  of  shaking  hands  which  had  crossed  his  mind 
when  he  turned  and  advanced  from  the  window.  Now,  as 
of  old,  he  felt  himself  overawed  and  ill  at  ease  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  woman,  whom  he  knew  to  be  his  debtor,  but 
whose  graceful  dignity  was  as  unimpaired  as  if  she  had 
been  still  the  beautiful  heiress  whom  he,  the  son  of  her 
father's  overseer,  had  once  beheld  across  an  impassable  gulf. 
The  thought  of  that  past  time,  of  the  great  change  in  their 
relative  positions,  was  much  more  in  his  mind  than  in  hers 
as  they  sat  down  opposite  each  other. 

So  many  changes  had  come  to  Madame  Prevost  that  she 
had  ceased  to  be  struck  by  surprise  at  any  of  the  altered 
conditions  which  surrounded  her.  The  man  now  facing 


16  THE    MAX    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

her  was  only  a  creditor,  who  held  for  the  moment  her  fate 
and  that  of  her  children  in  his  hand.  That  she  had  known 
him  once  as  an  uncouth  boy,  who  owed  his  first  chance  in 
life  to  her  father's  kindness,  was  a  fact  hardly  present  in 
her  thoughts  ;  but  it  was  overwhelmingly  present  in  Burn- 
ham's.  The  success  he  had  achieved  meant  more  to  him 
here  than  anywhere  else.  Vividly  present  in  his  recollec- 
tion was  the  envious  bitterness  with  which  in  his  3routh  he 
had  regarded  this  house  and  its  inmates — the  gallant  boys 
who  now  filled  soldiers'  graves,  and  the  radiant  girl  so  far 
above  him  ;  and  that  he  should  find  himself  now  in  a  posi- 
tion to  become  the  owner  of  the  house  and  dictator  of  the 
destiny  of  those  within  it  was  as  sweet  to  him  as  gift  of 
fortune  ever  was  to  any  man. 

He  had  swelled  with  an  almost  rapturous  sense  of  his 
power  as  he  approached  the  dwelling  which  was  to  him 
what  no  other  dwelling  in  Louisiana,  nor  in  the  world, 
could  be  ;  and  this  had  been  intensified  rather  than  less- 
ened by  the  latent  scorn  he  had  read  in  Yvonne's  eyes  and 
manner.  But  now,  confronted  by  Madame  Prevost,  her 
aspect  still  full  of  the  distinction  which  impresses  even  the 
vulgar,  and  her  manner  unchanged  in  its  gracious  though 
formal  courtesy,  he  felt  himself  sink  again  into  the  place 
and  stature  which  had  been  his  originally.  It  was  the 
effort  to  overcome  this  feeling,  to  assert  the  rights  of  his 
changed  position,  which,  after  he  had  taken  the  chair  'that 
a  motion  of  the  lady's  hand  indicated,  made  him  say  with 
more  abruptness  of  tone  and  manner  than  he  had  intended  : 

"  I  understand,  of  course,  that  you  were  about  to  write 
concerning  the  payment  of  your  note  to  me." 

"  Concerning  the  note,  yes,"  answered  Madame  Pre- 
vost. "  I  was  about  to  write  and  inquire  if  you  would  not 
be  satisfied  for  a  little  longer  with  the  payment  of  the 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  17 

interest,  since  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  arrange  to  meet 
the  debt." 

"  Hum  !"  said  Mr.  Burnham,  looking  down  lest  his  eyes 
might  betray  that  this  was  what  he  had  desired  as  well  as 
expected  to  hear.  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  given  as  much 
time  as  I  can,  although  I'm  sorry  to  disoblige  you.  But 
I  have  need  of  my  money  ;  and  business  is  business,  you 
know." 

"  I  know  it  very  well,"  replied  Madame  Preyost  quietly  ; 
"  and  ask  nothing  but  what  is  business-like.  I  am  paying 
an  interest  on  the  money  which  is  surely  as  high  as  you 
could  obtain  from  any  other  investment,  and  therefore  I 
supposed  that  it  would  not  inconvenience  you  to  let  the 
note  run  a  little  longer." 

"How  much  longer?"  asked  Burnham,  the  roughness 
of  his  tone  being  an  echo  of  the  resentfulness  with  which 
he  recognized  that,  in  her  definition  of  what  was  business- 
like, she  made  it  clear  that  she  had  no  intention  of  asking 
a  favor. 

"  That  I  cannot  exactly  say,"  the  lady  answered.  "  I 
can  only  assure  you  that  I  am  anxious  to  pay  the  money  as 
soon  as  I  possibly  can.  Meanwhile  the  interest — 

"  You  are  mistaken  about  the  interest,"  he  interrupted. 
"  It  is  by  no  means  as  high  as  I  could  obtain  by  many  other 
investments,  which  are  continually  offering  themselves  to 
me.  I  could  have  placed  the  money  twice  as  advantageous- 
ly several  times  lately  if  1  had  been  able  to  command  it  ; 
but  I  disliked  to  press  you.  I—  '  he  hesitated — "  I  don't 
forget  my  early  connection  with  your  family." 

The  lady  bent  her  head  slightly  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  remark.  Nothing  was  farther  from  her  gentle  spirit 
or  her  noble  manners  than  any  touch  of  arrogance  ;  but, 
in  his  uneasy  consciousness  of  inferiority,  Burnham  thought 


18  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

that  he  read  it  in  that  gesture.  His  face  flushed,  his  voice 
took  a  rougher  tone,  as  he  went  on  : 

/'  I  don't  forget  either  what  that  connection  was.  I  owe 
something  to  your  father,  who  helped  to  educate  me  ;  and 
I've  paid  it  by  keeping  a  roof  over  the  heads  of  his  daugh- 
ter and  his  grandchildren.  The  overseer's  son  wasn't  good 
enough  to  be  your  friend  or  associate  in  the  old  days  ;  but 
it's  doubtful  if  any  of  those  who  were  would  have  invested 
their  money  here  to  oblige  you,  as  I  have  done." 

His  listener  lifted  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him  with  a 
glance  in  which  there  was  more  wonder  than  disdain.  In 
truth,  there  is  to  a  lofty  soul  inexhaustible  food  for  won- 
der in  the  brutalities  of  which  a  coarse  nature  is  capable  ; 
a  wonder  which  sometimes  merges  into  compassion  for 
those  who  are  separated  by  so  wide  a  gulf — the  gulf  of  ab- 
solute non-comprehension — from  things  noble,  generous 
and  refined.  Something  of  this  feeling  made  Madame 
Pre  vest's  tone  still  courteous,  although  very  cold,  when 
she  spoke  : 

"  The  old  friends  to  whom  you  have  alluded  are  not  only 
now  very  few,  but  are  not  in  a  position  to  help  others,  as 
you  must  know  well.  Were  it  otherwise,  I  should  not  need 
to  be  your  debtor,  although  I  cannot  acknowledge  that  by 
lending  some  money  and  receiving  a  very  high  rate  of  in- 
terest upon  it,  you  have  '  kept  a  roof  over  the  heads '  of 
my  children  and  myself." 

"  No,"  he  responded,  with  increasing  insolence  of  de- 
meanor, "  I  don't  suppose  you  would  acknowledge  it  if  I 
had  given  you  the  money  without  any  interest.  It  would 
lower  your  pride  to  be  under  an  obligation  to  me." 

"  There  is,  happily,  no  question  of  an  obligation,"  ob- 
served Madame  Prevost  calmly.  "  You  have  lent  me 
money  on  ample  security,  and  I  have  paid  you  the  highest 


T11E   MAK   OF   THE   FAMILY.  19 

interest  you  could  possibly  obtain.  It  is  therefore  a  busi- 
ness transaction,  out  of  which  we  will,  if  you  please,  leave 
all  personal  discussion." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  you  are  ready  to  close  this  business 
transaction  by  paying  my  money  ?" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  am  not 
ready  to  do  so,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  be  satisfied 
with  the  interest  for — let  us  say,  a  year  longer." 

He  smiled  sardonically. 

"  And  there's  no  obligation  in  that — oh,  no  !  I'm  to  be 
out  of  my  money  so  much  longer,  and  see  good  investments 
lost  to  me  for  want  of  it ;  but  I  must  be  satisfied  with  my 
interest  and  the  honor  of  lending  money  to  Madame  Pre- 
vost,  and  expect  no  gratitude  from  her  for  a  favor.1' 

"  Mr.  Burnham,"  said  that  lady,  rising  from  her  chair, 
"  I  see  that  it  is  useless  to  prolong  this  conversation.  I 
am  loath  to  think  that  you  have  come  here — to  a  roof 
under  which  you  never  received  anything  save  kindness — 
in  order  to  insult  me.  I  prefer  to  believe  that  you  are  not 
aware  of  the  offensiveness  of  your  manner  and  speech. 
But  our  business  ends  here.  My  note  is  due  to  you  in  a 
few  days.  To-morrow  I  will  go  to  New  Orleans  to  see  my 
lawyer,  and  he  will  communicate  with  you  regarding  it.  I 
now  wish  you  good-day. ' ' 

She  stood  waiting  for  him  to  leave  ;  but,  instead  of  ac- 
cepting the  dismissal  he  had  brought  upon  himself,  Burn- 
ham  remained  motionless,  staring  up  at  her.  No  sign  of 
passion  ruffled  the  dignity  of  her  aspect,  but  there  was  a 
look  on  her  face  that  recalled  the  father  and  brothers 
whose  shades  might  almost  have  risen  to  cast  him  from 
her  presence  ;  and,  with  a  sudden  sense  of  shame,  he  felt 
that  he  had  justified  the  scorn  which  his  uneasy  soul  had 
always  suspected,  and  which  he  now  plainly  read  in  her 


20  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

glance  and  on  her  lips.  Consternation,  too,  seized  him  ; 
for  this  was  not  the  end  he  had  wished  to  bring  about. 
Nothing  was  farther  from  his  desire  than  to  be  forced  to 
relax  his  hold  on  a  property  which  he  coveted  with  his 
whole  soul.  Madame  Prevost  was  right  in  saying  that, 
though  he  had  indeed  meant  to  be  offensive,  he  was  not 
aware  of  the  extent  of  his  offensiveness.  He  had  been  led 
away  by  the  opportunity  to  utter  thoughts  whicli  had  long 
rankled  within  him  ;  and  in  giving  himself  this  gratifica- 
tion he  had  counted,  as  an  ignoble  nature  always  counts, 
on  the  power  he  possessed,  on  the  apparently  absolute  cer- 
tainty that  a  woman  who  owed  him  money  which  she  could 
not  pay  would  not  dare  to  resent  whatever  he  chose  to  say. 
Confronted  now  with  the  consequences  of  his  mistake,  he 
murmured  a  few  words  of  hurried  apology. 

"  Sorry  to  have  offended  you  !  Hadn't  the  least  inten- 
tion of  anything  of  the  sort,"  he  protested.  "  Pray  sit 
down  again,  Madame.  We  haven't  even  begun  to  talk  of 
the  business  that  brought  me  here." 

Madame  Prevost  did  not  sit  down  again,  but  she  regard- 
ed him  with  a  look  of  surprise  in  which  a  questioning  was 
mingled. 

"  We  have  talked,"  she  said,  "  of  the  only  business 
which  we  possess  in  common.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine 
what  else  you  can  have  to  say  to  me." 

"  I  have  a  good  deal  to  say  if  yon  will  sit  down  and  listen 
to  me,"  he  continued.  "  In  the  first  place,  since  it  is  not 
convenient  for  you  to  meet  the  note  at  present,  I'm  willing 
that  the  payment  should  be  deferred  a  few  months  longer. " 

Madame  Prevost  sank  back  into  her  chair.  Who  can 
blame  her  ?  The  reprieve  meant  much  to  her  ;  and  for  the 
sake  of  those  "  others"  of  whom  she  had  spoken  to  Yvonne, 
no  sacrifice  was  too  great— not  even  the  sacrifice  of  accept- 


TI1K    MAX    OF   THE    FAMILY.  21 

ing  a  favor  from  this  obnoxious  man.  But  in  resuming  her 
seat  she  did  not  change  the  cold  reserve  of  her  manner. 

"  I  understood  you  to  say —     "  she  began. 

"  You  understood  me  to  say  that  I  wanted  the  money 
for  better  investment,"  he  interposed.  "  But  if  you  can- 
not pay  it,  I  must  do  without  it  a  little  longer,  that's  all. 
I'm  a  plain  man  and  a  little  rough  in  my  ways  ;  but  I 
meant  no  offence  when  I  said  that  I  did  not  forget  what 
your  father  had  done  for  me,  and  that  perhaps  I  had  been 
able  to  do  for  you  what  none  of  your  fine  friends  of  the  days 
when  I  was  only  the  overseer's  son  would  have  done.  How- 
ever, we'll  let  that  pass  ;  only  I  am  glad  it's  fallen  to  me 
to  help  you  when  you  needed  help.  And  it's  my  desire 
to  help  you  still  further  :  to — to  arrange  matters  so  that 
this  property  may  remain  always  in  your  family." 

Madame  Prevost  looked  at  him  with  growing  astonish- 
ment as  he  stumbled  through  these  sentences.  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  she  had,  after  all,  misjudged  the  man  ;  and  that 
under  his  apparent  brutality  there  was  really  some  spark 
of  generosity,  of  grateful  remembrance  of  the  past  ? 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  that 
it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  explain  yourself  further." 

"  That  is  what  I'm  about  to  do,"  he  answered.  But  it 
was  evidently  not  an  easy  task.  He  hesitated  again,  cleared 
his  throat,  drew  out  a  handkerchief  with  which  he  wiped 
his  forehead,  and  then,  clinching  it  tightly  in  his  large 
hand,  went  on  with  what  seemed  an  abrupt  change  of  sub- 
ject :  "  Has  your  second  daughter— Miss  Diane,  I  think 
you  call  her — ever  mentioned  to  you  that  when  she  was  in 
New  Orleans  last  spring  she  met  my  son  ?" 

"  Never,"  replied  Madame  Prevost,  with  an  unmoved 
countenance  ;  although  an  instinct  of  what  was  coming 
flashed  upon  her. 


22  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY 

' '  Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Burnham,  ' '  that  is  the  way  with  young 
people.  They  seldom  mention  these  things  to  their  par- 
ents. Well,  Miss  Diane  did  meet  my  son,  and  he  was  very 
much  taken  with  her.  What  she  thought  of  him  I  don't 
know  ;  but  there's  no  reason  why  she  shouldn't  think 
well  of  him  ;  and  the  upshot  of  the  matter  is  that  I've 
come  here  to  propose  to  you  that  we  arrange  a  marriage 
between  them — that's  the  way  your  old  French  families 
manage  things,  I  know.  And  then  I'll  hand  over  your 
note  and  the  mortgage,  with  the  understanding  that  you 
are  not  to  be  disturbed  as  long  as  you  live,  and  that  the 
place  is  to  go  to  Miss  Diane  at  your  death.  In  this  way 
you'll  be  relieved  of  your  debt  and  the  estate  will  remain  in 
your  family,  since  one  of  your  daughters  will  be  the  owner 
of  it,  together  with  my  son." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  after  his  voice  ceased — a 
moment  in  which  Madame  Prevost  felt  as  if  she  were  suffo- 
cating. It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  in  all  her  long  strug- 
gle with  misfortune  the  hardships  of  fate  had  never  seemed 
to  her  so  cruel  as  at  this  instant,  when  she  had  been  forced 
to  listen  to  a  proposal  to  barter  her  daughter  for  the  dis- 
charge of  a  debt.  A  passionate  sense  of  the  indignity 
offered,  the  deep  humiliation  involved  in  such  a  proposal, 
overwhelmed  her  as  she  had  never  been  overwhelmed  be 
fore.  Every  drop  of  blood  in  her  veins  seemed  on  fire,  and 
for  once  all  gentleness  left  her.  Those  who  knew  her  best 
would  hardly  have  recognized  her  in  the  lady  who  rose 
with  an  air  so  haughty,  and  whose  glance  rebuked  the  pre- 
sumption before  her  voice  spoke. 

"  It  would  have  been  better,' '  she  said,  clearly  and  proud- 
ly, "  if  you  had  ended  this  interview  as  I  desired,  a  few  min- 
utes ago.  I  should  have  been  spared  an  insult,  and  you 
would  have  been  spared  hearing  that  money  difficulties 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   PAMILY.  23 

have  not  driven  me  to  entertain  the  thought  of  selling  my 
daughter. ' ' 

The  color  rushed  in  a  dull,  red  flood  over  Burnham's 
face.  Her  tone  cut  like  a  whip,  and  again  he  felt  himself 
at  fault  and  despised.  This  time  he  too  rose  to  his  feet 
and  stood  facing  her. 

' '  If  you  think  it  an  insult  that  I  should  speak  of  a  mar- 
riage between  your  daughter  and  my  son "  he  began. 

But  she  stopped  him  by  a  gesture. 
"I  think,"  she  said,  in  the  same  cool,  clear  accents, 
"  that  you  have  made  a  mistake  which  need  go  no  further. 
Let  me  repeat  that  you  will  hear  from  my  lawyer,  and  that 
there  is  nothing  to  detain  you  longer." 

"  You  are  not  afraid  to  turn  me  out  of  your  house  in 
such  a  way  as  this  —the  house  which  is  as  good  as  my 
own?"  he  demanded.  "You  had  better  stop,  I  think, 
Madame  Prevost.  I  know  your  pride — who  should  know 
it  better? — but  pride  will  make  a  poor  shelter  for  you 
when  I  foreclose  my  mortgage,  as  I  surely  will  if  I  go  out 
at  your  bidding  now,  Look  here  !  It  is  really  I  who  have 
been  insulted  by  the  manner  in  which  you  have  seen  fit  to 
take  a  very  liberal  offer.  But  I  know  the  ideas  in  which 
you've  been  brought  up — ideas  that  are  out  of  date  now,  I 
can  tell  you  ;  and  I'm  willing  to  give  you  a  little  time  to 
consider  and  consult  with  Miss  Diane.  She's  a  young  lady 
who  knows  the  world  ;  and,  from  what  my  son  tells  me,  I 
think  you'll  find  that  she  looks  at  the  matter  rather  differ- 
ently from  yourself. ' ' 

"  Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  my  daughter  has  given 
your  son  any  encouragement  to — offer  himself  in  this  man- 
ner ?"  asked  Madame  Prevost  haughtily. 

"  He  believes  that  she  has,  at  any  rate,  or  he  wouldn't 
do  it ;  for  Jack  thinks  very  well  of  himself,"  said  Burn- 


24  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

ham,  with  a  meaning  nod.  "  Take  my  advice  and  consult 
with  Miss  Diane." 

A  horrible  fear  seized  Madame  Prevost.  Could  that 
which  he  implied  possibly  be  true  ?  Could  Diane,  her  beau- 
tiful Diane,  have  given  encouragement  to  the  pretensions 
of  the  son  of  this  atrocious  creature  ?  She  had  known  of 
such  things,  of  women  who  had  so  stooped,  so  degraded 
themselves  ;  but  that  Diane  was  capable  of  it  was  incred- 
ible to  her.  And  yet — 

He  saw  her  hesitation,  and  pressed  his  advantage. 

"  You  had  better  take  time  to  consider,"  he  repeated. 
"  It  won't  make  much  difference  to  me  whether  you  agree 
or  not,  for  the  place  is  bound  to  be  mine  in  any  event ;  but 
I'd  like  to  gratify  my  son,  and  I  should  think  you'd  like  to 
know  that  your  daughter  will  be  mistress  of  it  after  you 
are  gone.  Besides,  it  would  certainly  kill  the  old  lady  to 
leave  here.  You  ought  to  think  of  her.  Old  people  can't 
stand  changes." 

Madame  Prevost  turned  white.  With  an  unconscious 
seeking  for  support,  she  put  out  her  hand  and  grasped  the 
back  of  the  chair  in  which  she  had  been  sitting.  Her 
mother  !  It  was  true  what  this  man  said  :  to  be  forced 
from  her  lifelong  home  would  surely  kill  her.  Was  it  not 
well,  then,  to  take  the  time  offered — to  temporize,  to  treat 
this  proposal  with  such  form  of  respect  as  would  at  least 
not  exasperate  the  father  and  son  who  made  it,  and  in 
whose  hands  such  power  rested  ?  Never  had  bitterer  cup 
been  held  to  her  lips,  but  the  painful  schooling  of  adversity 
told.  She  recognized  that  she  could  not  allow  herself  to 
resent  this  indignity  as  she  longed  to  do,  and  after  a  short 
struggle  answered  : 

"  I  will  refer  your  son's  proposal  to  my  daughter.  I  am 
sure  that  his — hopes  have  misled  him,  and  that  she  has 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  25 

never  possibly  given  him  any  encouragement ;  but  it  is  best 
that  she  should  speak  for  herself.  I  will  let  you  hear  from 
me  on  the  subject." 

"  I  think  you'll  find  it  all  right ;  my  son's  not  likely  to 
be  mistaken,"  Burnham  replied,  with  an  air  of  offensive 
confidence.  And  then,  feeling  that  he  should  make  some 
concession  on  his  side,  as  paving  the  way  for  a  more  cor- 
dial understanding,  he  added  :  "  Meanwhile,  you  can  send 
the  interest  on  the  note  for  three  months  longer.  By  the 
end  of  that  time  I  hope  matters  will  be  satisfactorily  set- 
tled. And  now  I'll  bid  you  good- day." 


CHAPTER   III. 

AFTEK  Madame  Prevost  left  the  little  sitting-room, 
Yvonne  remained  for  a  moment  motionless,  listening  to 
the  sound  of  her  footsteps  as  they  crossed  the  hall.  When 
the  closing  of  the  drawing-room  door  told  that  she  had  en- 
tered upon  the  dreaded  interview,  the  girl  turned  with  a 
deep  sigh,  and  seated  herself  in  the  chair  which  her  mother 
had  vacated  before  the  open  escritoire. 

She  had  now  laid  aside  the  broad'  shade  hat,  and  her 
countenance  was  fully  revealed  in  the  strong  light  pouring 
upon  her  from  the  open  window,  through  which  she  ab- 
sently gazed.  It  was  a  countenance  in  which  were  per- 
ceptible inherited  traces  of  the  mother's  beauty,  but  much 
modified,  less  delicate,  more  forceful.  In  fact,  there  was 
in  the  face  a  touch  of  masculine  vigor,  which  often  caused 
people  to  say  that  Yvonne  Prevost  would  have  made  a 
handsome  boy,  although  she  was  not  a  remarkably  pretty 
girl,  judged  at  least  by  the  standard  of  the  rest  of  her  fam- 


26  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

ily.  The  hazel  eyes,  which  were  her  greatest  beauty,  were 
like  those  of  a  boy  in  their  frank,  open,  fearless  expres- 
sion ;  and  so  were  her  resolute  mouth  and  chin  ;  while  the 
peculiarly  refined  loveliness  for  which  her  mother  and 
grandmother  had  each  in  her  generation  been  famous 
showed  itself  in  the  delicacy  of  the  upper  portion  of  her 
face.  Her  complexion  was  a  clear  brunette  ;  and  her  dark- 
brown  hair,  cut  short  around  her  brow,  added,  by  its  care- 
less picturesqueness  of  tossed  and  tumbled  locks,  to  her 
boyish  look. 

Indeed  Mr.  Burnham  was  not  the  only  person  who  spoke 
jestingly  of  Yvonne  as  "  the  man  of  the  family,"  while  to 
the  girl  herself  it  was  a  fact  in  which  there  was  no  jest. 
From  her  earliest  youth  it  had  in  great  measure  fallen  upon 
her  to  supply  the  masculine  element — that  is,  the  element 
upon  which  others  depend — in  a  family  altogether  femi- 
nine. She  had  for  years  been  her  mother's  sole  confidante 
and  counsellor  in  the  difficulties  which  continually  beset 
them,  and  with  which  they  never  troubled  either  the  grand- 
mother, who  knew  only  the  traditions  of  a  luxurious  past 
and  the  memories  of  her  sorrows,  or  the  three  girls  younger 
than  Yvonne,  to  whom  they  were  equally  anxious  to  secure 
as  far  as  possible  a  youth  unclouded  by  the  shadow  of  such 
stern  cares  as  it  was  their  part  to  meet  and  wrestle  with. 

And  from  being  confidante  and  counsellor,  Yvonne  had 
advanced  to  the  office  of  practical  assistant,  to  taking  the 
place  which  would  have  been  hers  had  she  been  born  a  sou 
instead  of  a  daughter  of  the  house.  In  an  almost  literal 
sense  she  put  her  hand  to  the  plough,  and  spared  her 
mother  the  expense  of  a  manager  by  looking  after  the  en- 
tire management  of  the  plantation  herself,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  an  old  servant  of  the  family,  intelligent  and  devot- 
ed to  their  interests.  Friends  stared,  wondered,  remon- 


THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  27 

strated  ;  for  on  all  Bayou  Teche  such  a  thing  had  never 
been  known  before  as  a  girl  who  superintended  the  work 
of  a  plantation — going  herself  into  the  fields  and  the  sugar- 
house,  and  having  as  keen  an  eye  for  every  detail  as  if  she 
had  been  a  man.  But  no  one  could  say  that  the  result  was 
not  good,  the  work  not  well  done,  the  plantation  not  better 
cultivated  than  it  had  been  since  the  war.  Yvonne  troubled 
herself  with  no  theories  of  what  was  or  what  was  not  a 
woman's  proper  sphere  ;  she  simply  accepted  the  task  laid 
before  her,  however  unusual  in  its  nature,  as  unnumbered 
women  have  done  through  all  the  ages,  before  ever  the 
clamor  arose  for  woman's  rights  ;  and  proved  her  right  to 
assume  the  work  by  fitly  discharging  it. 

And  there  is  in  work  conscientiously  undertaken  and 
honestly  performed  such  power  to  interest  and  satisfy  that 
the  girl  would  have  been  happy  in  her  labor,  in  the  modest 
consciousness  of  success,  and  the  growing  hope  of  making 
life  brighter  by  her  exertions  for  those  so  dear  to  her,  but 
for  seeing  the  burden  of  care  which  she  could  not  lessen 
constantly  weighing  upon  and  visibly  aging  her  mother. 
Always  more  or  less  the  case,  this  was  especially  so  at  times 
of  acute  crisis  like  the  present.  The  heavy  debt  which  her 
father  had  been  compelled  to  lay  upon  the  war-desolated 
plantation  rested  like  an  incubus  upon  them  ;  and  as  she 
looked  out  now  over  the  green  old  garden,  with  its  hedges 
of  roses  and  groves  of  orange  and  fig,  she  was  steadily  fac- 
ing the  fact  that  there  was  scarcely  more  hope  of  paying  it 
now  than  there  had  been  ten  years  before.  The  only  hope, 
if  Burnham  demanded  his  money,  was  to  find  some  one 
else  willing  to  lend  the  same  amount  for  the  same  security 
and  interest.  But  what  respite  was  there  in  that  ?  Sadly 
she  shook  her  head. 

"  Oh,  to  be  free  from  this  intolerable  slavery  of  debt  !" 


28  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

she  thought.  "  I  would  walk  barefoot  around  the  world  if 
I  might,  by  so  doing,  find  the  means  to  set  us  free,  and 
relieve  poor  mamma  before  this  misery  ends  by  killing 
her." 

But  those  who  have  known  much  trouble  learn,  if  they 
are  wise,  one  thing — never  to  brood  upon  it.  That  way 
madness  lies  ;  and  not  only  madness,  but  all  the  lesser  evils 
of  embittered  natures,  ruined  tempers,  lessened  energies, 
and  the  melancholy  that  destroys.  Young  as  she  was, 
Yvonne  had  learned  this  lesson.  With  an  effort  she  threw 
off  the  thoughts  that  clamored  about  her  like  a  pack  of 
hounds  ;  and  seeking,  as  long  habit  had  taught  her,  some 
distraction  for  her  mind,  she  turned  to  the  open  desk  be- 
side her. 

"  While  I  am  waiting  I  may  as  well  look  for  those  papers 
mamma  wants,"  she  said  to  herself  ;  and  from  the  pigeon- 
holes filled  with  letters  and  documents  she  began  to  take 
out  one  bundle  after  another  (most  of  them  yellow  with 
age  and  tied  together  with  bands  of  faded  tape),  and  to 
read  the  endorsements  written  upon  each  in  various  old 
fashioned  handwritings.  The  papers  of  which  she  was  in 
search  were  presently  found  and  laid  aside.  But  since  Ma- 
dame Prevost  did  not  come,  and  it  was  necessary  to  con- 
tinue to  divert  her  mind  as  far  as  possible  from  the  consid- 
eration of  what  was  passing  in  the  dreaded  interview, 
Yvonne  went  on  half-absently,  taking  out  and  examining 
documents,  many  of  which  had  been  untouched  for  years. 
It  was  indeed  a  very  slight  degree  of  attention  which  she 
bestowed  upon  them — listening  the  while  for  the  sound  of 
an  opening  door,  of  voices,  steps — until  suddenly,  having 
pulled  out  a  drawer  which  slightly  resisted  her  touch,  as  if 
long  unopened,  she  found  a  package  of  particularly  time- 
yellowed  papers,  on  which  was  written  in  the  handwriting 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  29 

of  her  great-grandfather,  "  Titles  of  estates  in  Santo  Do- 
mingo. H.  de  Marsillac." 

She  started  then,  with  new  interest ;  for  here  were  the 
records  of  a  page  in  the  family  history  with  regard  to  which 
she  had  never  been  able  to  obtain  the  degree  of  information 
she  desired.  She  knew  that  her  great-great-grandfather 
had  been  the  sole  representative  of  a  family  of  refugees 
from  Santo  Domingo,  who,  like  most  of  the  survivors  of 
the  massacre  which  followed  the  uprising  of  the  slaves  in 
1 791,  had  fled  to  Louisiana  ;  but  beyond  that  fact  she  had 
been  able  to  learn  very  little.  Everything  available  con- 
cerning the  history  of  the  colony,  as  well  as  of  the  great 
wave  of  bloodshed  and  horror  which  had  whelmed  it  in 
ruin,  she  had  read  with  avidity  ;  but  this  did  not  satisfy 
her  wish  for  more  personal  information.  So  it  was  with'  a 
sense  of  interest,  which  made  her  for  the  moment  forget 
her  preoccupation,  that  she  looked  at  the  papers  in  her 
hand,  tangible  links  with  that  far-away  past,  that  chapter 
which,  for  her  family  as  for  others,  had  closed  so  tragically. 

"  I  wonder  nobody  ever  told  me  that  these  papers  were 
here,"  she  thought.  "  I  suppose  they  were  long  since  for- 
gotten. Probably  no  one  has  ever  looked  at  or  touched 
them  since  my  great-grandfather  laid  them  away.  Well, 
they  will  give  a  local  habitation  at  least  to  the  fancies  I 
have  always  woven  about  the  place,  the  time,  and  the  peo- 
ple. As  soon  as  I  have  time  I  shall  look  over  them,  and — 
Ah,  there  is  mamma  at  last  !" 

Her  quick  ear  had  caught  the  sound  of  Burnham's  exit, 
of  Madame  Prevost's  last  formal  words  in  the  hall,  and 
then  of  the  step  which  came  slowly  towards  the  sitting- 
room.  She  thrust  the  package  of  papers  back  into  their 
drawer,  and,  rising,  turned  eagerly  to  greet  her  mother  as 
she  entered.  "  Well  ?"  she  said  quickly  ;  but  even  the 


30  THE   MAX   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

monosyllable  died  away  half  uttered  on  her  lips  as  she  saw 
the  face  with  which,  all  need  for  self-control  gone  now, 
Madame  Prevost  met  her. 

"Mamma  !"  and  the  girl  sprang  forward,  "  What  is 
it  ?  What  has  that  man  said  to  you  ?" 

Madame  Prevost  laid  her  hand  on  the  young  shoulder, 
as  if  on  a  welcome  support,  and  so  stood  for  an  instant. 
Then  she  answered  quietly  : 

"  Only  what  we  feared,  Yvonne.  He  wants  his  money 
— at  once,  if  possible  ;  if  not,  within  three  months." 

"  It  is  more  than  I  should  have  expected  of  him  to  give 
even  so  much  grace,"  said  Yvonne.  "  Sit  down,  mamma, 
and  do  not  look  so  heart-stricken.  Within  three  months 
we  can  at  least  find  another  creditor,  and  so  frustrate  his 
intention  of  finally  possessing  the  place." 

"  The  amount  is  so  large  that  I  fear  it  will  be  almost  im- 
possible to  find  any  one  else  to  lend  it  to  us,"  said  Madame 
Prevost.  "  Mr.  Clarke  has  never  encouraged  me  to  hope 
so.  And — I  am  not  sure  even  of  the  three  months.  He 
yielded  that  only  because  I,  on  my  side,  yielded  something 
which  1  am  ashamed  to  tell  you." 

"Ashamed! — you,  mamma!"  The  girl  knelt  down 
beside  the  chair  into  which  her  mother  had  sunk,  and  soft- 
ly stroked  the  hand  which  lay  in  her  own.  "  As  if  it  were 
possible  that  you  could  ever  do  anything  of  which  you 
would  have  need  to  be  ashamed  !" 

"  Yvonne" — Madame  Prevost  suddenly  sat  upright  and 
spoke  with  energy — "  has  Diane  ever  mentioned  to  you 
that  when  she  was  in  New  Orleans  last  spring  she  met  this 
man's  son?" 

"  Burnham's  son?"  asked  the  young  girl,  in  surprise. 
"  Certainly  not.  I  never  heard  before  that  such  a  person 
existed/' 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  31 

"But  he  does  exist,"  replied  Madame  PreVost  ;  "and 
he  met  Diane,  and — how  can  I  say  it ! — he  proposes  to 
marry  her,  and  the  father  proposes  that  I  shall  pay  my 
debt  with  my  daughter." 

"  Mamma,  you  are  not  in  earnest  !" 

"Yes,  terribly  in  earnest,  my  child.  It  sounds  like  a 
melodrama,  but  it  is  exactly  the  proposal  to  which  I  have 
listened.  And,  being  assured  by  Mr.  Burnham  that  his 
son  has  reason  to  believe  that  his  suit  will  be  favorably  re- 
ceived by  Diane,  I  have  agreed  to  consider  the  proposal  far 
enough  to  consult  her  with  regard  to  it." 

Yvonne  looked  at  her  mother  with  eyes  full  of  compas- 
sion. 

"  It  was  even  worse  for  you  than  I  feared,"  she  said,  in 
a  low  tone.  "  I  could  never  have  imagined  anything  like 
this.  But  while  it  is  plain  that  we  must  face  the  worst  as 
far  as  the  debt  is  concerned,  you  do  not  think  it  possible 
that  Diane " 

"  No,"  said  Madame  Prevost  as  she  paused,  "  I  cannot 
believe  it  possible  that  Diane  has  given  this  man  the  war- 
rant for  his  presumption  which  he  asserts.  But  do  you 
wonder  that  I  feel  degraded  in  my  own  eyes,  as  if  I  had 
sunk  low  indeed,  in  even  considering  such  a  proposal  ? 
Yet  to  refuse — that  was  to  bring  ruin  upon  us  at  once  ;  and 
I  was  not  brave  enough  to  face  that,  Yvonne." 

"  Mamma,"  cried  the  girl,  "  how  can  you  blame  your- 
self ?  What  else  could  you  do  ?  As  if  he  did  not  know 
well — the  despicable  creature  ! — that  he  had  to  deal  only 
with  a  woman  helplessly  in  his  power  !  Do  you  think  he 
would  have  ventured  to  make  such  a  proposal  to  a  man  ? 
He  would  have  known  that  he  would  have  been  flung  out 
of  the  house — and,  oh,  that  I  had  been  a  man  to  do  it  !" 

"  There  are  some  things  certainly  for  which  men  are  use- 


32  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

fill,"  said  Madame  Prevost,  in  a  faintly  whimsical  tone. 
"  But  let  us  not  waste  our  energy  in  futile  anger,  chene. 
Go  and  tell  Diane  that  I  wish  to  speak  to  her." 

"  Not  at  once,  darling  !  Give  yourself  time  to  recover 
from  what  you  have  just  passed  through." 

"On  the  contrary,  Yvonne,  I  must  know  at  once — I  can- 
not have  a  moment's  peace  until  I  do  know — what  Diane 
will  think  of  this.  Go  and  bring  her  quickly." 

"  Shall  I  return  with  her?" 

"  Certainly.  This  is  no  secret.  It  concerns  us  all,  and 
every  one  will  soon  know  the  result." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

LEAVING  the  sitting-room  to  do  her  mother's  bidding, 
Yvonne  crossed  the  hall,  and,  running  lightly  up  the  wide, 
shallow,  and  dangerously  polished  steps  of  the  great,  curv- 
ing staircase,  reached  the  second  floor,  where,  passing  noise- 
lessly by  the  door  of  the  chamber  in  which  her  grandmother 
was  taking  her  siesta,  she  entered  another  chamber  con- 
taining two  white-draped  single  beds,  which  indicated  a 
double  occupancy.  It  was  the  chamber  shared  by  herself 
and  Diane  ;  and,  while  large  and  lofty  as  all  the  apartmen  ts 
of  the  mansion  were,  was  sparingly  furnished  with  the  same 
quaint,  old-fashioned  furniture  which,  with  scarcely  any 
modern  additions,  filled  the  rest  of  the  house. 

And  seated  at  this  moment  before  a  Louis-Seize  toilet- 
table  was  a  girl  who,  from  her  appearance,  might  have  been 
one  of  the  gay  group  who  played  at  blind-man's-buff  with 
Louise  de  la  Valliere  on  the  tapis-vert  of  Versailles  ;  or 
one  of  those  who  shared  the  rural  simplicity  of  the  Petit 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  33 

Trianon  with  Marie  Antoinette.  For  if  the  peculiar  revival 
or  survival  of  a  type  which  made  Madame  Prevost  so  "  like 
an  old  picture,"  as  people  always  said,  was  only  slightly  to 
be  perceived  in  the  personal  appearance  of  Yvonne,  it  was 
strikingly  reproduced  in  Diane,  the  second  daughter  and 
beauty  of  the  family.  Like  her  mother,  she  resembled  not 
so  much  the  Frenchwomen  of  to-day  as  those  women  of  the 
past,  whose  charms  have  been  resolved  into  dust  for  nigh 
upon  two  centuries.  Here  in  undimmed  freshness  were  all 
the  traits  which  the  countenance  of  Madame  Prevost  now 
only  suggested — the  curling  tresses  of  sunny  hair  straying 
lightly  across  the  fair  forehead  ;  the  brows  delicately  arched 
over  eyes  sometimes  tender,  sometimes  sparkling,  but  al- 
ways full  of  possibilities  of  disdain  ;  the  lips  which  well 
deserved  the  old  simile  of  Cupid's  bow  ;  the  exquisitely 
rounded  cheek  and  chin  ;  the  complexion  of  lilies  and 
roses. 

No  wonder  that  Diane  had  made  a  sensation  when  she 
entered  society  for  the  first  time  the  winter  before  in  New 
Orleans  ;  or  that  the  grandson  of  her  grandfather's  over- 
seer, struck  by  her  patrician  loveliness,  conceived  the  idea 
of  reaching  at  a  single  bound  the  social  height  towards 
which  he  painfully  toiled,  by  an  alliance  so  desirable  from 
every  point  of  view  save  that  of  the  money  which  he  had 
no  need  to  consider.  Yet  so  much  wisdom  had  he  learned 
in  the  course  of  his  struggles  for  social  recognition  that  he 
made  no  attempt  to  approach  Diane  in  the  character  of  a 
suitor  while  she  was  shining  in  those  elevated  regions, 
where  he  was  barely  tolerated  ;  but,  patiently  biding  his 
time  and  keeping  in  mind  her  beauty  and  distinction,  he 
waited  until  the  moment  was  ripe  for  proposing  to  unite 
his  father's  ambition  and  his  own. 

As  Yvonne   entered,  her  sister  looked   around  with  a 


34  THE   MAN   OP   THE    FAMILY. 

smile.  She  had  just  finished  arranging  her  hair,  and  was 
contemplating  the  result  with  satisfaction. 

"  How  do  you  like  this  Psyche  coiffure,  Yvonne  ?"  she 
asked.  "  I  think  it  is  very  becoming.  Look  at  the  effect 
in  profile." 

She  turned  her  graceful  head — than  which  Psyche's  own 
could  not  have  been  more  charming — as  she  spoke.  At 
another  time  Yvonne  would  have  appreciated  the  effect  as 
much  as  herself,  for  she  was  the  first  and  foremost  of 
Diane's  admirers  ;  but  just  now  she  gave  only  an  indiffer- 
ent glance  at  the  coiffure  as  she  replied  : 

"  It  is  very  pretty.  But  I  haven't  time  to  admire  it  just 
now,  Diane.  Mamma  has  sent  me  for  you.  She  wishes  to 
speak  to  you." 

"  What  about  ?"  asked  Diane,  with  some  surprise  ;  for 
such  a  summons  was  unusual. 

Yvonne  hesitated  an  instant.  Then  she  answered  the 
question  by  another  : 

"  Diane,  when  you  were  in  New  Orleans  last  winter  did 
you  meet  a  man  named  Burnham — a  son  of  the  Burnham 
to  whom,  as  you  know,  mamma  is  in  debt  ?" 

"Burnham  !"  repeated  Diane,  opening  her  pretty  eyes 
a  little  wider  in  growing  astonishment  and  the  effort  to  re- 
member. "It  is  likely  that  I  may  have  met  him,  but  I 
don't  recall  him  at  all.  Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

Yvonne  uttered  a  low,  unmirthful  laugh  as  she  an- 
swered : 

"  Because  you  made  so  deep  an  impression  upon  him  that 
he  has  sent  his  father  to  make  a  proposal  for  you." 

"  For  me  !    A  proposal  of " 

"  Of  marriage — yes." 

'  Yvonne,  you  are  surely  jesting  !" 

"Jesting!"    Yvonne's  dark  eyes  gave  a  flash.     "Do 


THE   MAif   OF   THE   FAMILY.  35 

you  think  I  would  jest  on  the  subject  of  a  proposal  from 
such  a  person  ?" 

"  But  it  is  so  astonishing  !"  said  Diane,  leaning  back  in 
her  chair  and  regarding  her  sister.  "  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
ever  saw  the  man — I  certainly  don't  recall  him  ;  and  that 
he  should  have  seen  me,  and  been  sufficiently  impressed  to 
make  a  proposal  months  after  the  meeting,  is  almost  in- 
credible, you  will  admit." 

"  It  would  not  be  incredible  if  he  had  never  seen  you," 
replied  Yvonne  ;  "  for  although  he  must  have  admired 
you,  as  every  one  who  sees  you  does,  there  is  more  in  the 
proposal  than  admiration  for  you  :  there  is  a  question  of — 
But  never  mind  that  just  now.  Come  to  mamma,  who 
wishes  to  speak  to  you  before  replying  to  this  insult." 

"I  should  not  call  it  an  insult,"  observed  Diane  dis- 
passionately, as  she  rose.  "It  is  a  presumption,  per- 
haps— 

"  How  great  a  presumption  you  don't  understand," 
Yvonne  interposed,  impetuously.  "  This  man,  whom  you 
cannot  even  recall  as  an  acquaintance,  asserts  that  he  re- 
ceived encouragement  from  you  which  leads  him  to  confi- 
dently expect  a  favorable  answer  to  his  proposal." 

"  That  is  most  extraordinary,"  said  Diane.  "  Let  me 
think  if  I  cannot  recollect  him."  She  paused  in  an  atti- 
tude of  consideration,  her  finger  pressed  to  her  lip.  Then 
suddenly  she  looked  up  and  laughed.  "  Why,  certainly  I 
do  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  met  him  at  one  of  the  Mardi 
Gras  balls,  and  later  once  or  twice  at  some  large  entertain- 
ment. He  is  one  of  the  people  who  are  not  exactly  in  so- 
ciety, you  know — only  on  the  outskirts.  I  had  forgotten 
all  about  him  ;  but  I  do  remember  now  that,  as  far  as  could 
be  observed  on  such  a  limited  acquaintance,  he  seemed 
rather  smitten  by  my  charms.  But  that  was  not  sufficient- 


36  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

ly  uncommon  to  be  remarkable,"  added  Diane,  with  frank- 
ness. 

"  Then  that  accounts  for  the  matter,"  said  Yvonne.  "  I 
know  how  you  treat  people — how  you  smile  in  every  man's 
face,  no  matter  how  insignificant  or  even  odious  he  may  be, 
as  if  he  possesses  your  most  favorable  regard  ;  and  how  they 
all  believe  that  you  mean  something  by  it,  not  knowing  that 
you  forget  them  as  soon  as  they  are  out  of  your  sight." 

"  But  if  I  do,"  said  Diane,  "  that  is  no  reason  why  I 
should  not  be  pleasant  to  them  while  they  are  in  my  sight. 
In  fact,  I  don't  know  how  to  be  anything  else." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Yvonne,  recognizing  the  perfect 
sincerity  and  simplicity  of  this  assertion.  "  You  really 
don't  know  how  to  be  anything  else,  so  I  suppose  one 
should  not  blame  you.  But  come  ;  we  must  not  keep 
mamma  waiting  longer." 

They  left  the  chamber  together,  and  ran  down-stairs  to 
the  sitting-room,  where  they  found  Madame  Prevost  pac- 
ing up  and  down  the  floor.  She  paused  at  their  entrance, 
and  looked  first  keenly  at  Diane,  then  interrogatively  at 
Yvonne. 

"  It  is  as  we  supposed,  mamma,"  the  latter  said  in  reply 
to  the  look.  "  Diane  is  barely  able  to  recall  having  met 
the  man,  and  of  course  gave  him  no  ground  for  the  pre- 
sumptuous confidence  he  has  expressed." 

Madame  Prevost  breathed  a  low  sigh  of  relief,  then  an 
swered  : 

"  I  did  not  think  that  Diane  could  possibly  have  encour- 
aged him  as  his  father  represented,  but  I  feared  there 
might  be  some  ground  for— misapprehension." 

"I  never  dreamed  of  encouraging  him,"  Diane  said 
quietly.  "  Such  an  idea  is,  of  course,  quite  absurd.  But 
perhaps  he  was  foolish  enough  to  think  that  I  did,  As 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  37 

Yvonne  was  saying  a  moment  ago,  it  may  be  that  my  man- 
ner is  sometimes  misleading — though  I'm  sure  I  haven't 
the  least  intention  of  making  it  so — and  an  underbred  man 
does  not  always  understand  these  things." 

"  Of  course  he  does  not,"  said  Madame  Prevost ;  "  and 
it  is  something  you  will  do  well  to  remember.  You  can- 
not treat  an  underbred  man  with  ease  and  informality.  He 
is  certain  to  presume  upon  it,  as  this  man  has  presumed." 

"But  there  will  at  least  be  no  difficulty  in  answering 
him,  mamma,"  said  Diane,  with  unruffled  calmness. 
"  You  need  only  present  your  compliments  to  his  father 
and  decline  the  honor  of  the  proposed  alliance.  It  was 
hardly  necessary  to  send  for  me  for  so  simple  a  thing  as 
that." 

Madame  Prevost  looked  again  at  her  eldest  daughter,  as 
if  inquiring  whether  she  might  not  accept  this  decision  as 
final,  and  not  trouble  Diane  with  any  consideration  of  the 
consequences  which  would  flow  from  the  refusal  thus  un- 
equivocally stated.  There  seemed  no  reason  why  she 
should  be  troubled,  since  the  last  thing  either  of  them  de- 
sired was  that  she  should  give  any  other  answer.  But, 
with  her  love  of  frankness,  Yvonne  answered  the  look  by 
saying  : 

"  I  think  Diane  should  know  everything,  mamma.  I 
have  no  fear  of  her  changing  her  mind." 

"  Neither  have  I,"  said  Madame  Prevost,  "  but  is  there 
need  to  pain  her  by  a  knowledge  of  difficulties  which  can- 
not be  averted  ?  However,  it  is  perhaps  better  that  she 
should  understand  the  situation.  Sit  down,  my  dear" 
(this  to  Diane),  "  and  I  will  explain  to  you  the  whole 
matter." 

She  sat  down  herself  as  she  spoke  ;  and  Diane,  with  a 
surprised  expression,  threw  herself  in  a  careless  attitude 


38  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

on  a  chintz-covered  lounge,  and  drew  Yvonne  down  beside 
her. 

"  Come,  counsellor,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  Nothing  can 
be  decided  without  your  help,  although  it  does  not  seem 
to  me  that  there  can  be  anything  further  to  decide  in  this 
case." 

"  Not  to  decide — of  that  I  am  sure — but  to  know,"  said 
her  mother.  "  Briefly,  then,  my  dear  :  what  Mr.  Burn- 
ham  came  here  to  propose  to  me  was  this — that  a  marriage 
should  be  arranged  (in  the  fashion  of  our  old  French  fami- 
lies, he  was  good  enough  to  say)  between  you  and  his  son, 
for  and  in  consideration  of  which  he  would  cancel  my  debt 
to  him,  and  I  should  be  left  undisturbed  in  possession  of 
this  place  for  the  term  of  my  life,  with  the  condition  that 
it  would  pass  to  you  and  his  son  at  my  death.  In  other 
words,  he  proposed  that  I  should  pay  my  debt — which  he 
had  already  satisfied  himself  that  I  could  not  meet — by 
selling  you.  I  answered,  as  you  may  imagine,  by  request- 
ing him  to  leave  the  house.  But  then,  Diane,  he  asserted 
that  his  son  had  reason  to  be  hopeful  of  a  favorable  reply 
from  you,  and  insisted  that  I  should  at  least  refer  the  oifer 
to  you.  It  was  a  bitter  humiliation  to  me  to  entertain  it 
even  for  the  length  of  time  necessary  to  observe  such  a 
form  ;  but  much  depended  on  my  making  this  concession, 
and  so — I  agreed  to  do  so,  and  leave  the  decision  to  you. 
Thank  God  you  are  able  to  tell  me  that  the  man's  pre- 
sumptuous hopes  had  no  foundation." 

"  Not  the  very  least,"  replied  Diane,  with  unmoved 
quietness,  "  as  far  as  they  rested  on  anything  that  occurred 
in  our  very  slight  acquaintance.  But  he  probably  reckoned 
on  something  else,  mamma — on  the  possibility  that  I  might 
be  willing  to  do  even  this  to  help  you." 

"  Diane  !" 


THE   MAtf    OF   THE   FAMILY.  39 

.  It  was  a  simultaneous  cry  from  mother  and  sister — a  cry 
of  astonishment,  of  appeal,  of  something  like  fright. 
Diane  in  reply  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  Why  not  ?"  she  asked,  still  quietly.     "  Since  I  can  do 
nothing  else,  why  should  I  not  do  this  ?" 


CHAPTER  V. 

THERE  was  a  moment  of  silence,  so  much  were  Madame 
Prevost  and  Yvonne  confounded  by  Diane's  unexpected 
question.  Then  her  mother  answered,  in  grave  tones  : 

"  Because,  my  dear,  there  are  some  things  which  cannot 
even  be  taken  into  consideration.  And  this  is  one  of  them. 
Not  to  save  Beaulieu — not  to  save  our  lives  if  it  came  to 
that — would  I  consent  to  such  a  sacrifice.  Perhaps  the 
man  did  count  on  this  generous  impulse  on  your  part  ;  and 
thought,  too,  that  I  might  play  the  role  of  the  parent 
who  makes  such  bargains.  But  he  has  only  shown  his  in- 
capacity to  understand  anything  elevated  in  character  or 
motive,  and  we  need  not  consider  him  further.  There  only 
remains  to  decline  his  proposal,  and  forget  it  as  soon  as 
we  can." 

But  Diane  shook  her  Psyche-like  head. 

"  I  cannot  consent  to  that,  mamma,"  she  said.  "  The 
proposal  is  made  to  me,  and  I  have  a  right  to  accept  it.  It 
will  be  my  act." 

"  Your  act — but,  Diane,  you  are  mad  !  I  will  not  per- 
mit it." 

Diane  smiled.  "  Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  she  said,  "  when 
you  consider  that  you  should  not  stand  in  the  way  of  my 
making  so  advantageous  a  settlement  in  life  !" 


40  THE    MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  Diane  !"  It  was  Yvonne  who  now  seized  her  arm  and 
shook  her  angrily.  "  How  can  you  jest  on  such  a  subject  ? 
It  is  shameful  !" 

Diane  turned  and  looked  at  her  sister,  and  certainly  there 
was  no  jesting  in  her  glance. 

"  I  am  in  earnest,"  she  said.  "  As  far  as  I  can  perceive, 
it  rests  with  me  to  relieve  mamma  of  her  debt  and  to  secure 
her  home  to  her.  Do  you  think  I  would  hesitate  over 
that?  Because  I  have  never  said  much  about  our  difficul- 
ties, you  can't  suppose  that  I  have  not  been  aware  of  them. 
There  is  no  good  in  talking  of  disagreeable  things  when 
one  can  do  nothing  ;  but  when  the  opportunity  comes  to 
do  something,  then  one  should  act.  I  have  always  thought 
that  there  would  never  be  an  opportunity  for  me,  since  I 
am  such  a  useless  creature  ;  and  I  confess  that  I  have  often 
envied  you,  Yvonne,  your  power  of  helping.  But  now  my 
opportunity  has  come,  and  I  shall  take  it.  I  will  accept 
this  man's  offer." 

Again  there  was  a  moment's  silence  ;  for  neither  Yvonne 
nor  her  mother  knew  what  to  make  of  such  an  attitude  as 
this  on  the  part  of  Diane,  of  such  totally  unlooked-for  reso- 
lution as  her  last  words  expressed.  A  gentle  and  charming 
docility  had  been  so  entirely  heretofore  one  of  her  chief 
traits  of  character  that  they  were  wholly  unprepared  for 
any  determination  to  act  according  to  her  own  will  and  in 
opposition  to  their  wishes.  Obstinacy,  self-assertion,  in 
Helene  or  Ninon  they  would  have  understood  and  reck- 
oned upon  as  possible  ;  but  in  Diane — they  looked  at  each 
other  with  a  consternation  which  was  speechless,  until  Ma- 
dame Prevost  presently  spoke  : 

"  My  dear  child,  you  mean  this  most  generously  ;  but  I 
must  say  again  that  it  is  absolutely  out  of  the  question  for 
me  to  allow  anything  of  the  kind.  Understand  once  for  all 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  41 

that  to  see  you  sacrificed  in  such  a  manner  would  be  far 
worse  to  me  than  anything  else  which  could  possibly  hap- 
pen. It  is  not  even  a  subject  to  be  discussed.  Let  me 
hear  no  more  of  it." 

Generally,  when  Madame  Prevost  spoke  in  that  tone  her 
children  yielded  implicit  obedience  ;  but  on  this  occasion 
Diane  broke  the  rule. 

"  I  think,  mamma,  we  must  speak  of  it  a  little  further," 
she  said  ;  "  for  I  am  quite  in  earnest  and  quite  resolved. 
I  shall  be  sorry  to  do  anything  which  you  disapprove  ;  but 
when  it  is  a  question  of  gaining  so  much  by  a  single  sacri- 
fice, I  am  bound  to  make  the  sacrifice — even  against  your 
wishes.  'Xou  are  thinking  of  me,  but  I  am  thinking  of  how 
I  should  feel  when  I  saw  you  driven  from  your  home  after 
I  had  refused  to  help  you." 

"  And  do  you  think,"  asked  JVfadame  Prevost,  "  that  I 
would  not  rather  be  homeless,  and  if  need  be  penniless, 
than  let  you  marry  the  son  of  that  man  ?" 

"Perhaps  you  would,"  replied  Diane;  "but  it  is  for 
me,  not  for  you,  to  make  the  choice.  And  let  us  look  at 
it  reasonably,  mamma.  I  am  a  French  girl,  and  we  know 
that  a  French  girl  is  expected  to  make  un  mariage  de 
convenance" 

"  Because  you  are  a  French  girl,"  said  Madame  Prevost, 
"  you  should  know  better  than  to  confound  mariage  de 
convenance  with  what  the  gross  English  mind  calls  a  '  mar- 
riage of  convenience.'  Convenance,  my  dear,  as  you  are 
perfectly  aware,  is  not  convenience,  mercenary  or  otherwise. 
It  is  propriety,  suitability — all  those  things  which  wise  par- 
ents endeavor  to  secure  in  arranging  anything  so  important 
as  a  marriage  for  a  child.  But  where  is  there  any  propriety 
or  suitability  in  a  marriage  between  you  and  the  grandson 
of  mv  father's  overseer  ?" 


42  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"It  is  possible  that  there  might  be  more  than  you 
think,"  replied  Diane.  "  Of  course,  it  is  very  bad  that 
his  grandfather  should  have  been  what  he  was,  and  that  his 
father  should  be  what  he  is.  One  must  shrink  a  little  from 
these  things" — despite  herself  a  shudder  crept  over  the 
girl's  delicate  frame — "but,  until  we  know  to  the  con- 
trary, we  may  suppose  that  the  son  is  an  improvement  on 
his  father  and  grandfather,  as  we  often  find  to  be  the  case 
in  the  sons  of  self-made  vulgar  men.  The  sons  have  had 
advantages  of  wealth  and  education  which  their  fathers  did 
not  have,  you  know.  And  don't  you  think  we  should  give 
this  Mr.  Burnham  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  ?  It  is  a  point 
in  his  favor  that  he  made  no  impression  of  any  kind  on 
me.  I  did  not  even  remember  having  been  him  ;  and,  you 
know,  if  he  had  been  very  objectionable  in  appearance  or 
manner  I  should  have  recollected  him." 

There  was  something  humorous,  had  any  one  been  in  the 
mood  to  perceive  it,  in  the  seriousness  with  which  the  girl 
advanced  this  plea  ;  glancing  appealingly  from  her  mother 
to  Yvonne,  as  if  sure  that  they  must  acknowledge  the 
force  of  it.  But  the  aspect  of  neither  was  encouraging. 
Plainly,  they  were  not  prepared  to  accept  the  fact  that  he 
had  not  been  able  to  impress  himself  upon  her  recollection 
as  evidence  in  the  suitor's  favor. 

"  Diane,"  said  her  sister,  "  it  is  simply  revolting  to  hear 
you  talk  in  that  manner.  You  know  you  don't  think  those 
things  ;  you  know  that  there  is  no  one  who  would  shrink 
sooner  than  yourself  from  any  connection  with  people  of 
such  atrocious  antecedents  and  such  shocking  vulgarity  and 
brutality.  For  this  proposal  proves  a  vulgarity  so  hopeless 
that  it  leaves  nothing  more  to  be  said  or  done.  The  men 
— father  and  son — who  are  capable  of  this  would  be  capable 
of  anytnmg.  And  the  son  is  no  better  than  the  father. 


THE  MAN"   OF  THE   FAMILY.  43 

How  could  he  be  ?  And  for  you  to  endeavor  to  make  us 
believe  that  you  think  he  might  be  is  really  worse  than 
nonsense — it  is  a  false  pretence  of  which  I  would  not  have 
believed  you  capable." 

"  Poor  Yvonne  !"  said  Diane,  patting  her  sister's  arm, 
and  quite  unvexed.  "  You  are  angry  because,  like  mam- 
ma, you  are  thinking  of  me.  But  what  I  have  said  is 
quite  reasonable,  and  it  is  best  to  look  at  matters  reason- 
ably ;  for,  even  if  all  you  say  were  true,  it  would  not  alter 
the  necessity  of  the  case.  And,  since  I  must  marry  the 
man,  it  is  surely  better  that  I  should  think  well  than  ill 
of  him." 

"You  shall  never  marry  him  !"  cried  Yvonne  fiercely. 
"  We  will  never  allow  you  to  do  so  !" 

"  My  dear,"  replied  Diane,  almost  pityingly,  "  you  can- 
not prevent  it.  I  see  clearly  that  it  is  the  thing  appointed 
for  me  to  do — a  necessity  of  fate  against  which  there  is  no 
good  in  struggling,  and  1  shall  not  struggle.  I  shall  sim- 
ply make  the  best  of  it,  if  there  be  any  best  in  it ;  but,  in 
any  event,  I  shall  do  it." 

Again  the  note  of  clear,  inflexible  resolve  in  her  voice 
struck  on  both  the  mother's  and  sister's  ear,  and  again 
they  looked  at  each  other  with  that  strange  sense  of  help- 
lessness which  the  unexpected,  especially  in  manifestations 
of  character,  usually  produces.  Then,  the  imperative 
mood  being  proved  clearly  useless,  they  tried  remonstrance 
and  appeal.  But  Diane  was  unmoved.  In  her  playful, 
gentle  way — a  way  so  associated  in  their  minds  with  her 
customary  docility  that  its  effect  was  now  bewildering — she 
answered  the  appeals,  but  yielded  nothing.  And  when 
Madame  Prevost  finally  and  positively  refused  to  com- 
municate her  answer  to  the  Burnhams,  she  only  said 
quietly  : 


44  THE   MAN   OF  THE    FAMILY. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  force  me  to  act  for  myself. 
That  certainly  would  not  be  very  convenable." 

"  Diane,"  exclaimed  her  mother,  "  I  do  not  know 
you  !" 

"  No,  mamma,"  she  answered,  "  I  do  not  think  you  do. 
I  have  been  so  purely  ornamental  hitherto  that  you  have 
never  thought  of  me  as  possibly  useful,  or  as  possessing 
any  will  or  character  of  my  own.  But  I  really  do  possess 
a  little,  and  I  am  quite  determined  to  do  this  thing.  So 
write  to  Mr.  Burnham  and  tell  him  that  we  accept  his 
proposal." 

"  I  would  rather  die  !"  cried  Madame  Prevost  passion- 
ately. "  Diane,  you  think  that  you  are  self -sacrificing, 
but  you  are  really  cruel." 

It  was  a  thing  so  almost  unexampled,  at  least  in  the 
knowledge  of  her  younger  daughters,  for  Madame  Prevost 
to  lose  her  self-control,  that  Diane  stared  for  a  moment  at 
her  mother,  and  then  suddenly  dropped  upon  her  knees 
beside  her. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  /  would  rather  die  than 
cause  you  any  pain  which  could  be  avoided  ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  in  this  I  am  bound  to  disregard  your  present 
pain  for  your  lasting  good.  And  not  yours  only.  Think 
of  grand'mere  and  of  the  girls  !  But  I  don't  desire  to  be 
obstinate,  and  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  say  that  I  don't 
desire  to  marry  Mr.  Burnham.  Tell  me,  therefore,  mam- 
ma, is  there  the  least — the  very  least — hope  of  your  being 
able  by  any  other  means  to  pay  your  debt  ?" 

This  was  a  crucial  question  indeed  ;  and,  confronted 
with  it,  Madame  Prevost  could  only  gaze  helplessly  into 
the  face  uplifted  to  her. 

"We  can  sell  the  plantation,"  she  said  desperately,  at 
last. 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  45 

Diane  rose  to  her  feet,  smiling  a  little — a  rather  sad  and 
hopeless  smile: 

"  And  if  the  plantation  were  sold,  where  would  be  your 
means  of  support  ?"  she  asked.  "  No,  I  see  clearly  that 
this  which  is  offered  is  our  only  resource.  Mamma, 
Yvonne" — she  looked  at  them  appealingly — "  let  us  make 
up  our  minds  to  what  must  be  and  face  it  bravely.  It 
seems  absurd  for  me  to  offer  such  advice  to  you  who  have 
already  faced  so  much  which  you  spared  the  rest  of  us. 
But  I  knew  of  it  all  the  time  ;  and,  now  that  my  turn  has 
come  to  take  my  share  of  the  burden,  you  should  not  refuse 
my  help.  This  one  thing  has  been  reserved  for  me  to  do, 
and  this  one  thing  I  alone  can  do.  Therefore,  if  you  love 
me,  accept  my  resolution  as  final,  and  let  us  talk  of  it  no 
more." 

And  then  Yvonne,  forgetting  her  anger,  sprang  forward 
and  put  her  arms  around  the  slender  young  figure  standing 
so  upright  in  its  resolve. 

"  Diane,  dear  Diane,"  she  cried,  "it  is  /  who  never 
knew  you  !  Much  as  I  have  always  loved  you,  I  did  not 
know  that  you  have  the  soul  of  a  hero.  But  you  shall  not 
be  sacrificed — that  I  solemnly  swear  !  There  must  be  some 
means  to  pay  this  debt,  and  I  will  find  it.  Only  give  me 
a  little  time.  Don't  insist  on  letting  these  people  know 
your  decision  at  once.  The  man  has  offered  mamma  three 
months'  grace  :  let  us  accept  it.  Let  her  write  to  him  and 
say,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  that  his  offer  will  be  taken  into 
consideration,  and  that  three  months  hence  he  shall  have 
his  answer.  Meanwhile  I  will  move  heaven  and  earth  to 
save  you  ;  and  if  I  fail — well,  then  I  promise  to  accept 
your  decision  and  say  nothing  more  against  it." 

Such  a  proposal  as  this  from  any  other  girl  would  have 
seemed  the  mere  expression  of  a  passionate  protest,  if  not 


46  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

wildest  folly  ;  but  from  Yvonne  it  had  a  more  serious  sig- 
nificance. Her  thorough  knowledge  of  the  family  re- 
sources, as  well  as  her  business-like  qualities,  were  well 
known  to  every  member  of  the  family  ;  and  she  had  al- 
ready been  able  to  do  so  much  towards  practically  improv- 
ing their  fortunes  that  it  was  no  wonder  Diane  looked  at 
her  now  with  a  gleam  of  hope  in  her  eyes. 

"  0  Yvonne  !"  she  said,  "  do  you  really  think  there  is 
the  least  possibility  of  your  succeeding?" 

"How  can  I  tell  until  I  try?"  answered  Yvonne. 
"  Heaven  helps  those  who  help  themselves.  I  can  only 
say  that  I  will  leave  nothing  undone  to  gain  success.  Only 
give  me  three  months." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Diane  was  glad  of  any  excuse 
for  delay,  brave  and  resolute  as  she  had  appeared  ;  added 
to  which  her  faith  in  Yvonne  was  so  great  that  she  agreed 
willingly  to  the  compromise  suggested.  So  it  was  settled 
that  Mr.  Burnham  should  be  answered  in  the  manner  in- 
dicated. 

"  And  for  three  months,"  Diane  stipulated,  "  we  will 
not  speak  again  of  the  obnoxious  subject.  I  shall  try  to 
forget  it,  and  also  try  not  to  hope  too  much  ;  for  not  even 
you,  Yvonne  dear,  can  accomplish  impossibilities." 

"  I  feel,"  said  Yvonne,  "  as  if,  for  the  end  I  have  in 
view,  there  were  no  such  things  as  impossibilities. " 


CHAPTEE   VI. 

'  YVONNE,  Yvonne  !"  cried  a  gay  young  voice,  "  what 
are  you  doing,  poring  over  those  dreadful  old  papers,  in- 
stead of  coming  out  on  the  gallery  with  us  ?" 


THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  47 

It  was  Ninon — a  tall  slip  of  a  girl,  still  in  short  frocks — 
who,  standing  in  one  of  the  open  windows  of  the  sitting- 
room,  with  a  background  of  soft,  purple  night  behind  her, 
looked  in  on  Yvonne,  who,  seated  at  the  old  escritoire,  was 
examining,  by  the  light  of  a  student's  lamp,  the  package  of 
yellow  papers  which  had  roused  her  interest  in  the  afternoon, 
and  which  she  had  then  laid  aside  for  future  examination. 
The  recollection  of  them  had  come  to  her  some  hours  later 
as  a  welcome  distraction  from  other  thoughts  ;  and  she  had 
gone  into  the  sitting-room  to  look  over  them  at  this  un- 
usual time. 

"  Presently,  "Ninon,"  she  replied,  without  looking  up. 
"  These  papers  are  not  at  all  dreadful  ;  they  are  very  inter- 
esting, and  I  will  come  and  tell  you  about  them  in  a  few 
minutes." 

Ninon  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  As  if  musty  old  things  like  those  could  be  interesting  !" 
she  said.  But  she  knew  Yvonne  too  well  to  persevere  fur- 
ther ;  and,  turning,  she  went  back  to  the  two  white-clad 
figures  she  had  left  seated  on  the  gallery  in  the  faint  radi- 
ance of  a  young  moon — a  golden  crescent  hanging  in  the 
western  sky.  "  There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  tempt  her," 
she  reported.  "  She  is  absorbed  in  some  old  papers,  which 
are  so  interesting  that  she  promises  to  come  presently  and 
tell  us  about  them. " 

"  Poor,  dear  Yvonne  !"  said  Helene,  the  third  sister, 
with  a  laugh.  "  She  thinks  that  because  they  interest  her 
they  will  interest  us.  It's  a  great  mistake.  But  we  must 
pretend  to  be  interested,  because  she  is  really  so  good  in 
helping  mamma  look  after  our  affairs." 

"  Yvonne  ought  to  have  been  born  a  boy/'  said  Ninon, 
in  the  tone  of  one  who  cannot  but  remark  a  mistake  of 
Providence.  "  It  would  have  been  so  much  better  for  her, 


48  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

as  she  likes  business  and  things  of  that  sort  ;  and  so  much 
better  for  us,  since  she  could  then  look  after  our  affairs  to 
more  advantage,  and  perhaps  make  money  instead  of  just 
saving  it.  I  hate  saving  money  !"  added  this  young  per- 
son, in  a  quiet  but  very  decided  Voice. 

"  Do  you  suppose  anybody  likes  it — except,  perhaps, 
misers  and  people  of  that  kind  ?"  inquired  Helene.  "  It 
would  be  a  satisfaction,  however,  to  know  that  we  were 
even  saving  money,  because  then  there  would  be  a  chance 
of  some  day  spending  what  was  saved  ;  but  I  fear  we  are 
not  even  doing  that.  It  goes  to  my  heart  to  see  how  wor- 
ried poor  mamma  looks  sometimes  ;  and  Yvonne  is  begin- 
ning to  have  a  careworn  expression  after  the  Committee  of 
Ways  and  Means  has  been  in  session." 

There  was  a  soft  sigh  from  where  Diane  sat,  leaning  back 
in  a  low  wicker  chair,  and  gazing  at  the  golden  crescent  in 
the  violet  sky. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  observed  ;  "  but  they  have  both  always 
been  so  anxious  to  keep  their  worries  from  us  that  it  seemed 
a  pity  not  to  gratify  them,  especially  since  there  was  no 
good  in  knowing  unpleasant  things  if  one  could  not  help 
them." 

"  One  might  prefer  to  know  them,  all  the  same,"  said 
Helene,  who  was  afflicted  with  a  full  share  of  the  failing 
of  Eve.  "  I  don't  think  we  ought  to  be  treated  quite  so 
much  like  children.  There  was  a  man  here  to-day  to  see 
mamma,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "  Do  you 
know  what  he  came  for  ?" 

"I  suppose  you  mean  a  man  who  came  to  see  heron 
business,"  Diane  answered  quietly.  "  His  name  is  Burn- 
ham.  He  is  from  New  Orleans." 

"  Oh,  the  son  of  grandpapa's  overseer  !  I  have  heard  of 
him.  What  business  could  he  have  with  mamma  ?" 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  49 

"  She  owes  him  some  money,  Hel£ne,  if  you  must  know." 

"  And  did  she  pay  it  ?" 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Diane,  still  calmly  regarding  the 
sky.  "  But  she  has  made  arrangements  to  pay  it — in  three 
months." 

"  It  was  a  pity  she  could  not  pay  it  at  once.  It  must  be 
very  disagreeable  to  owe  that  kind  of  person  anything." 

"  Very  disagreeable  indeed  ;  but  sometimes  even  owing  is 
preferable  to  paying  when  the  sacrifice  to  be  made  in  order 
to  pay  is  very  great." 

Helene  looked  sharply  at  the  speaker.  "  You  are  grow- 
ing mysterious  too,"  she  said.  "  What  sacrifice  must  be 
made  ?" 

"  There  is  always  a  sacrifice  involved  in  every  debt, 
which  somebody  must  pay,  you  know,"  answered  Diane 
vaguely. 

"  That  may  be/'  returned  Helene  pertinaciously  ;  "  but 
what  I  want  to  know  is  whether  any  particular  sacrifice  is 
to  be  made  for  this  debt.  Does  mamma,  perhaps,  think  of 
selling  the  place  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Diane,  with  sudden  energy  ;  "  she  does 
not  think  of  it  ;  and  I  beg  you,  Helene,  not  to  trouble 
her  with  any  questions.  It  is,  of  course,  annoying  to  owe 
anything  which  one  cannot  pay  ;  but  she  has  arranged,  as 
I  have  said,  to  meet  this  debt  within  three  months  ;  and 
that  is  all  there  is  about  it.  Since  she  is  so  anxious  to  keep 
such  annoyances  from  us,  the  least  we  can  do  is  to  respect 
her  wishes  by  not  prying  into  them.  Knowing  is  not  help- 
ing, and  if  we  all  worried  together  it  would  not  help  mat- 
ters in  the  least  :  it  would  only  make  them  worse." 

"  Yvonne  ought  to  be  a  boy  !"  reiterated  Ninon. 
*'  Then  there  would  be  one  of  us  to  go  and  do  something." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Ninon,"  Yvonne  said,  unexpect- 


50  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

edly  drawing  near.  "  I  have  always  wished  that  I  were  a 
boy  ;  but  never,  I  think,  so  much  as  to-night." 

"Why  to-night  especially?"  inquired  Ninon.  "Has 
anything  happened  ?" 

"  Yes,  something  has  happened,"  answered  Yvonne. 
"  I  have  found  an  old  paper  which  seems  to  me — don't 
laugh,  all  of  you  ! — as  if  it  may  contain  a  faint,  wild,  dis- 
tant hope  of  fortune  for  us." 

"  Fortune  !"  they  all  repeated,  in  different  tones  of  sur- 
prise and  incredulity.  "  For  us,  Yvonne  ?" 

"  A  fortune  as  distant  as  if  it  were  yonder,"  said  Yvonne, 
pointing  to  the  crescent  moon  hanging  like  a  fairy  boat  in 
the  sky  before  them  ;  "  yet  perhaps — mind,  I  only  say  per- 
haps— existing  for  all  that." 

"  But  where,  pray  ? — where  ?"  cried  Ninon  eagerly. 

Yvonne  sat  down  in  one  of  the  chairs  scattered  about. 
Even  in  the  moonlight  they  could  see  that  her  eyes  were 
shining  strangely. 

"  Those  old  papers  which  I  was  reading  when  you  spoke 
to  me,  Ninon,"  she  said,  "interested  me  very  much,  be- 
cause they  are  the  records  of  things  that  seemed  to  belong 
to  another  world.  They  are  title-deeds  of  the  estates  our 
great-great-grandfather  lost  at  the  time  of  the  insurrection 
of  the  slaves  in  the  island  of  Santo  Domingo." 

"  But  there  can  be  no  hope  of  a  fortune  in  them, 
Yvonne,"  said  Diane  ;  "for  you  know  we  have  always 
heard  that  the  estates  were  totally  lost." 

"  I  am  not  so  foolish  as  to  think  of  the  estates,"  replied 
Yvonne.  "  But  I  have  found  a  paper  which  states  that, 
being  suddenly  forced  by  the  uprising  of  the  slaves  to  fly 
for  his  life,  Henri  de  Marsillac,  our  great-great- grandfather, 
buried  at  his  home  a  large  amount  of  gold  and  other  valu- 
ables which  he  was  unable  to  take  with  him." 


THE   MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY.  51 

There  were  quick  ejaculations  from  three  young  voices. 

"  A  buried  fortune  !     How  exciting  !"  cried  Helene. 

"  Yvonne,  you  are  dreaming!"  said  Diane  ;  while  Ninon 
flung  herself  on  her  knees  at  her  sister's  feet,  put  her 
elbows  in  her  lap,  and  looked  up,  with  her  eyes  gleaming 
out  of  the  mane  of  loose,  dark  locks  she  tossed  aside. 

"  0  Yvonne  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  do  you  believe  it  ?" 

"  I  must  believe  that  there  was  such  a  thing,"  answered 
Yvonne  ;  "  for  the  memorandum  I  have  found  is  in  the 
handwriting  of  Henri  de  Marsillac  ;  and  relates  that,  being 
taken  by  surprise  in  the  uprising,  and  obliged  to  escape 
hurriedly,  he  buried,  in  a  place  which  he  describes,  both 
gold  and  jewels.  Now — be  quiet,  Ninon  dear  ! — you  know 
it  is  possible  that  this  fortune  was  long  since  discovered — 
perhaps  by  his  son,  perhaps  by  others  ;  but  again  there  is 
a  faint  possibility  that  it  may  be  there  buried  yet." 

"  Gold  and  jewels  !"  repeated  Hele"ne,  in  an  awed  tone. 
"  And  there  all  this  time — buried,  waiting  for  us  !  0 
Yvonne,  what  a  romance  if  it  should  prove  true  !" 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  hope  that  it  is  there  yet  waiting 
for  us,"  said  Diane.  "  If  Yvonne  found  this  memoran- 
dum, of  course  others  have  seen  it  ;  and  no  doubt  the  for- 
tune was  unearthed  long  ago." 

"  In  that  case,"  returned  Yvonne,  "  would  the  paper  be 
there  at  all  ?  Or  is  it  likely  we  should  never  have  heard  of 
such  a  thing  ?  You  know  how  often  grand'm&re  has  talked 
of  the  stories  of  Santo  Domingo,  which  her  father-in-law 
told  her.  Among  them  all  would  she  have  forgotten  such 
a  thing  as  the  recovery  of  a  buried  fortune  ?" 

"No,"  the  girls  agreed.  "  Grand'mere  would  know. 
Let  us  go  at  once  and  ask  her  about  it." 

There  was  a  simultaneous  movement ;  and  the  next  mo- 
ment four  young  figures,  with  Yvonne  at  their  head,  en- 


52  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

tered  the  drawing-room,  where  Madame  Prevost  and  her 
mother,  Madame  de  Marsillac,  sat  reading  by  the  light  of  a 
shaded  lamp.  The  corners  of  the  large,  foreign-looking 
room  were  shadowy  ;  but  the  centre  of  radiance  about  the 
table  at  which  both  ladies  were  sitting  brought  out  with  a 
picture-like  distinctness  their  figures— especially  that  of 
the  elder  lady,  herself  a  picture  in  every  sense,  and  one 
which  an  artist  would  have  delighted  to  paint.  The  deli- 
cacy of  her  regular  features,  the  fine,  clear  pallor  of  her 
skin,  were  admirably  contrasted  by  her  silvery  hair,  ar- 
ranged in  a  series  of  puffs  on  each  side  of  her  face — an 
arrangement  eminently  becoming  ;  and  rendered  more  so 
by  a  coif  of  lace,  which,  just  touching  with  its  point  the 
ivory-like  forehead,  left  exposed  the  puffs  of  silvery  hair, 
but  fell  in  two  lappets  on  each  shoulder,  thus  framing  the 
face  in  the  softest  drapery.  It  was  a  work  of  love  and  of 
artistic  pleasure  to  Denise  (the  lifelong  maid  of  Madame 
de  Marsillac,  who  had  laughed  at  the  idea  of  freedom  part- 
ing her  from  her  mistress)  to  dress  that  beautiful  hair,  and 
arrange  over  it  the  fine  lace  which  she  guarded  so  carefully. 

A  queen  all  her  life  long  had  been  this  stately  old  lady, 
from  the  days  of  her  beautiful,  petted  youth,  when  parents 
had  idolized  and  suitors  fought  for  her  glances,  to  the  pres- 
ent time,  when  her  subjects  had  narrowed  down  to  a  few 
faithful  hearts,  all  of  whom,  however,  were  absolutely 
loyal.  Grande  dame  she  was  to  the  tips  of  her  slender 
fingers,  and  so  rigorous  and  punctilious  in  her  ideas  of  the 
proprieties  of  life  that  her  granddaughters  mingled  much 
awe  with  their  love  and  admiration  for  her.  This  was  evi- 
dent in  their  manner  whenever  they  approached  her  ;  and 
at  the  present  time  even  impetuous  Ninon  held  back  and 
allowed  the  eldest  sister  to  explain  their  errand. 

They  were  a  pretty  group — all  so  girlish,  so  simple,  in 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY-  53 

manner  and  dress,  and  all  more  or  less  preserving  in  the 
third  generation  the  beauty  of  the  mother  and  grand- 
mother. If  this  beauty  lost  in  them  something  of  its  dis- 
tinction of  aspect — save  in  the  case  of  Diane — it  was  at 
present  replaced  by  the  ineffable  bloom  of  youth  ;  and  they 
formed  a  band  to  gladden  a  mother's  eyes  and  heart  with 
their  fair,  sweet  young  looks. 

"  Grand'm&re,"  said  Yvonne,  advancing  into  the  circle 
of  lamp-light,  "  we  have  come  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  I  hope  that  it  is  one  which  I  can  answer,  mes  enfants," 
replied  the  old  lady,  lifting  her  eyes  with  a  smile.  "  It  is 
easy  to  ask  questions,  as  you  know  ;  but  to  answer  them — 
that  is  sometimes  very  difficult." 

"  You  can  answer  this,  grand' 'm£re,"  continued  Yvonne. 
"It  is  only  to  tell  us  whether  you  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing  as  a  buried  fortune  on  the  De  Marsillac  estates  in 
Santo  Domingo." 

"  I  have  heard,"  replied  Madame  de  Marsillac,  without 
the  least  hesitation,  "  that  my  father-in-law's  father,  your 
great-great-grandfather,  buried  some  amount  of  money — 
how  much  I  do  not  know — on  the  eve  of  his  flight  from  his 
estate.  This  is  certain  ;  but" — the  girls  drew  nearer  in 
breathless  eagerness — "the  sum  was  never  recovered,  be- 
cause he  died  at  the  Cape  from  his  wounds  ;  and  even  if  it 
had  been  safe  to  search  for  it,  no  one  but  himself  knew 
where' he  had  concealed  it." 

"  Did  he  not  leave  some  memorandum — some  description 
of  the  place  ?"  asked  the  eldest  sister,  restraining  the  others 
by  a  gesture. 

"  Not  that  I  ever  heard  of,  and  I  should  have  heard  of 
it  if  he  had,"  answered  Madame  de  Marsillac. 

"  But  he  did,  grand1  nitre,  he  did  !"  cried  Ninon,  unable 
to  restrain  herself  longer.  "  And  Yvonne  has  found  it." 


54  THE   MAK   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  Yvonne  has  found  it !"  repeated  Madame  de  Marsil- 
lac,  looking  at  Yvonne  with  an  expression  of  surprise. 
"  When  and  where?" 

"  Half  an  hour  ago,  grand'm&re,  in  a  package  of  old 
papers  which  I  was  examining  put  of  curiosity,"  Yvonne 
replied.  "  Here  is  what  I  found." 

She  made  a  step  forward  and  placed  in  her  grandmother's 
hand  a  yellow,  stained  sheet  of  paper — a  single  sheet, 
which,  folded  closely,  might  readily  have  lain  concealed  be- 
tween other  and  bulkier  papers  for  more  than  the  century 
which  had  elapsed  since  it  had  last  seen  the  light.  There 
was  a  pause  of  intense  silence  as  the  old  lady  opened  and 
placed  it  immediately  beneath  the  lamp,  then  slowly  read 
the  lines  of  faded  writing  within.  All  eyes  were  bent  upon 
her  face,  as  if  to  judge  by  the  manner  in  which  she  received 
this  communication  from  the  past  how  far  they  were  to 
credit  it.  The  silence  was  long — or  seemed  long  to  the 
excited  fancy  of  the  young  people  grouped  around  her — 
before  she  lifted  her  eyes  and,  looking  across  the  table  at 
her  daughter,  said,  in  the  voice  of  one  who  is  deeply  im- 
pressed : 

"  This  is  very  strange  !  How  often  I  have  heard  my 
father-in-law  say  that  his  father  had  died  leaving  no  clue 
to  the  place  where  he  had  concealed  everything  of  value 
which  he  could  lay  his  hands  upon  when  forced  to  fly  for 
his  life  !  And  y«t  here,  in  the  writing  of  Henri  de  Marsil- 
lac  himself,  is  a  full  description  of  the  spot  where  he  buried 
both  money  and  jewels." 

"  How  could  it  possibly  have  been  overlooked  so  long?" 
asked  Madame  Prevost,  in  an  awed  tone,  as  she  held  out 
her  hand  for  the  paper. 

"It  was  within  another  paper,"  said  Yvonne — "  an  old 
deed,  which  was  passed  over,  no  doubt,  as  of  no  value,  and 


THE    MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY.  55 

might  have  been  even  partly  opened  without  revealing  its 
enclosure.  But  I  read  it  on  account  of  its  quaint  phraseol- 
ogy, and  when  I  turned  the  page  I  found  this  folded  within. " 

"  Read  it,  mamma  ! — read  it  aloud  !"  cried  Helene. 
"  Let  us  hear  what  it  is." 

"  Yvonne  should  read  it.  since  she  was  its  discoverer," 
gaid  Madame  Prevost,  with  a  smile  at  her  eldest  daughter. 

And  so  Yvonne,  standing  beside  the  table,  and  holding 
the  paper  within  the  radiance  of  the  circle  of  lamp-light, 
read  aloud  the  following  words,  which  may  be  thus  trans- 
lated into  English  : 

"  Having  learned,  through  the  warning  of  my  faithful 
servant,  Jacques,  that  an  insurrection  of  the  slaves  is  hourly 
to  be  expected,  I  have  determined  to  join  my  family  at  the 
Cape  without  delay.  And  since  it  would  be  rash  to  at- 
tempt to  carry  valuables  with  me  in  the  disordered  condi- 
tion of  the  country,  I  have  concealed  everything  of  the 
kind — to  wit,  the  sum  in  gold  which  I  have  recently  re- 
ceived from  M.  Brissot-Saget  in  payment  for  the  estate  of 
La  Coupe,  my  wife's  jewels,  and  all  our  plate — in  the  place 
which  I  now  describe,  for  the  benefit  of  my  children,  should 
I  myself  be  prevented  from  returning  to  secure  them  : 

"  On  the  second  terrace  of  the  garden,  at  the  east  side  of 
the  sun-dial  which  stands  in  the  circle  containing  the  statue 
of  the  nymph,  I  have  buried  everything.  Should  I  not 
reach  the  Cape  alive,  Jacques  will  convey  this,  with  my 
other  papers,  to  my  wife. 

'  HENRI  DE  MABSILLAC. 

MILLEFLEUKS,  August  22,  1791." 

Profound  silence  followed  for  a  moment  upon  the  read- 
ing of  this  document,  now  first  seen  by  other  eyes  than 


56  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

those  of  the  writer  since  the  night  it  was  penned  in  distant 
Santo  Domingo.  Every  one  was  conscious  of  a  thrill  of 
something  like  awe  in  hearing  this  message  of  the  dead, 
delivered  at  last  to  the  fourth  generation  of  his  blood,  after 
the  lapse  of  a  century.  It  was  the  voice  of  Madame  de 
Marsillac  which  finally  broke  the  silence. 

"  Jacques  was  faithful  indeed,"  she  said.  "  He  accom- 
panied his  master  on  his  flight  to  the  Cape  ;  and,  when 
they  were  met  by  the  insurgent  slaves,  died  defending  him. 
Thanks  to  the  speed  of  his  horse,  M.  de  Marsillac  escaped  ; 
but  he  was  desperately  wounded,  and  died  a  few  days  later. 
So  it  happened  that,  although  he  reached  his  family  and 
saved  his  papers,  he  failed  to  tell  them  or  to  make  them 
understand  where  they  would  find  this  paper.  At  least  so 
we  may  conjecture,  for  we  know  very  little.  My  father-in- 
law's  mother  never  recovered  from  the  horrors  of  that 
time.  She  died  soon  after  they  reached  Louisiana,  and  two 
of  her  children  followed  her  ;  so  that  he,  a  child  of  six 
years,  was  left  sole  survivor  of  the  family." 

"  And  he  never  thought  of  reading  valueless  title-deeds," 
remarked  Yvonne  ;  "  so  this  one  scrap  of  value  among 
them  escaped  his  knowledge.  The  question  now  is,  has  it 
yet  any  value?" 

No  one  felt  able  to  answer  this  question,  and  all  eyes 
turned  again  toward  the  grandmother,  whom,  in  French 
fashion,  the  children  had  been  trained  to  regard  as  the 
head  of  the  house,  as  if  seeking  an  oracle  there. 

"  Who  can  say  ?"  replied  Madame  de  Marsillac.  "  A 
century  has  passed  ;  the  land  has  been  in  the  hands  of  the 
revolted  slaves  from  that  day  to  this  ;  no  one  can  tell 
whether  the  money  M.  de  Marsillac  concealed  has  not  long 
ago  been  found  and  taken." 

"  But,"  said  Yvonne — and  what  emphasis  her  clear  young 


THE    MAX   OF   THE    FAMILY.  57 

voice  lent  that  potent  word  ! — "if  by  any  chance  it  should 
still  be  undiscovered,  that  money  is  ours,  and  ours  alone." 

Her  grandmother  nodded.  "There  can  be  no  question 
of  that,"  she  answered.  "  You  who  are  gathered  here — 
your  mother  alone  in  her  generation,  and  you  four  girls  in 
yours — are  the  only  living  descendants  of  Henri  de  Mar- 
sillac." 

Yvonne's  glance  passed  over  the  persons  thus  indicated 
— over  her  mother's  noble,  careworn  face  ;  over  the  deli- 
cate, girlish  aspect  of  her  sisters,  dwelling  longest  on 
Diane  ;  and,  as  if  she  drew  inspiration  from  the  sight,  as 
if  in  that  moment  she  saw  all  the  struggles  of  the  past  and 
all  the  hopelessness  of  the  future,  she  spoke  as  not  one  of 
those  present  had  ever  heard  her  speak  before,  with  a  pas- 
sionate earnestness  and  decision  that  seemed  for  the  mo- 
ment to  transform  her. 

"  Then,"  she  said,  "  with  the  help  of  God,  I  will  find 
that  money  if  it  still  remains  where  Henri  de  Marsillac 
placed  it  !" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IT  was  two  or  three  hours  later,  and  the  entire  household 
was  wrapped  in  silence  and  stillness,  when  Yvonne  and  her 
mother — the  Committee  of  Ways  and  Means,  as  Helene 
called  them — were  alone  together  in  the  chamber  of  the 
latter.  Through  the  open  windows  a  soft  breeze  from  the 
river  entered,  wafting  back  the  light  curtains  ;  while  Ma- 
dame Prevost,  reclining  in  a  low,  deep  chair,  looked  and 
listened  to  Yvonne,  who,  seated  before  her,  erect  and 
eager,  was  talking  earnestly  ;  the  shaded  lamplight  from 


58  THE  MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

the  table  beside  which  they  sat  falling  on  her  picturesque 
head,  her  animated  face,  and  her  girlish  figure  in  its  simple 
gown  of  white  muslin. 

"  There  is  nothing  else  to  be  done,"  she  was  saying. 
"  The  money  must  be  sought,  and  there  is  no  one  but  my- 
self to  seek  it." 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  "  such  a  thing,  when 
one  comes  to  consider  it  practically,  is  madness.  How  is 
it  possible  for  you  to  go  to  that  island  to  look  for  money 
concealed  a  century  ago  ?  It  would  be  a  wild  and  hopeless 
expedition  if  you  were  a  man,  but  for  a  young  girl  to 
undertake  such  a  search  is  out  of  the  question." 

"  Mamma,"  was  the  grave  reply,  "  nothing  is  out  of  the 
question  which  must  be  done.  And  there  is  not  anything 
more  certain  than  that  this  must  be  done.  It  seems  to  me 
no  less  than  a  miracle  that  I  should  have  found  that  .old 
paper,  which  has  lain  hidden  from  all  eyes  so  long,  just 
when  our  need  is  most  desperate.  And  because  I  have 
found  it  at  the  time  when  it  means  most  to  us,  I  believe 
firmly  that  the  money  buried  by  Henri  de  Marsillac  is  still 
to  be  found  where  he  concealed  it.  At  least,  you  must 
admit  there  is  a  strong  probability  that  it  is  still  there  ; 
and  so  would  it  not  be  madness  indeed  if  we  failed  to  look 
for  it  ?" 

"It  might  be  worth  while  perhaps,"  Madame  Prevost 
answered,  "  if  there  were  a  man  to  go " 

"  But  since  there  is  no  man,  /  must  go. " 

"  Yvonne,"  said  her  mother,  "  yoa  have  played  the  part 
of  a  man  so  long  in  our  affairs  that  I  believe  you  half  for- 
get that  you  are  not  one.  There  is  nothing  more  impossi- 
ble than  that  you  should  go  on  this  wild  quest  The  mere 
thought  of  such  a  thing  is  absurd.  You  are  dreaming,  my 
dear — dreaming  a  fairy  tale." 


THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  59 

"  Is  there  much  that  is  suggestive  of  a  fairy  tale  in  the 
condition  of  our  affairs  ?"  asked  Yvonne  dryly.  "  Is 
there  much  encouragement  to  dream  in  the  reality  of  our 
debts,  or  in  the  resolution  of  Diane  to  sacrifice  herself  ? 
Do  you  understand  that,  gentle  as  she  seems,  Diane  is  im- 
movable in  her  resolve  ?  As  certainly  as  she  lives  she  will 
marry  Burnham's  son  if  we  cannot  pay  the  debt  at  the  ex- 
piration of  three  months.  And  do  you  know  any  means 
by  which  we  can  obtain  the  money  to  pay  the  debt  ?" 

Madame  Prevost  shook  her  head  as  she  looked  at  her 
daughter's  intensely  earnest  face. 

"  Did  you  hear  me  swear  to  her,"  Yvonne  went  on, 
1 '  that  I  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  find  the  means  to 
save  her  ?  It  must  have  been  an  inspiration  which  made 
me  say  this  ;  for  I  knew  there  was  no  hope — that  we  had 
already  tried  every  possible  means  of  raising  money  to  pay 
the  debt,  and  failed.  But  when  I  looked  at  Diane  and 
thought  of  what  she  was  resolved  to  do,  I  felt  that  there  • 
was  nothing  impossible  except  to  permit  such  a  sacrifice  ; 
and  so  I  pledged  myself — wildly,  desperately,  hopelessly, 
one  might  say.  I  would  '  leave  nothing  undone,'  I  said  ; 
although  I  felt  that  there  was  nothing  to  do.  And  then — 
then,  mamma,  there  came  into  my  hands,  by  a  chance  so 
strange,  the  old  paper,  written  as  if  it  were  to  meet  this 
need,  by  that  man  standing  on  the  verge  of  his  death  a 
hundred  years  ago.  And  what  it  says  plainly  is  that  if  1 
will  go  to  a  certain  spot  in  the  island  of  Santo  Domingo,  I 
shall  find  the  means  to  save  Diane,  to  pay  your  debt,  to 
give  us  all  peace  and  independence.  Do  you  think  I  can 
hesitate  ?  Do  you  think  anything  could  keep  me  back  ? 
No — not  lions,  not  devils  in  my  path,  far  less  considera- 
tions of  what  is  or  is  not  proper  for  a  young  girl  to  do." 

"  Yvonne,  you  astonish,  you  almost  frighten  me  !"  said 


60  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

her  mother,  startled  by  this  passionate  vehemence.    "  These 
are  new  ideas  indeed." 

"  Not  more  new  than  the  needs  which  draw  them  forth, 
mamma,"  said  Yvonne.  "  If  I  wished  to  do  this  merely 
as  an  adventure,  or  even  merely  for  the  money  as  money, 
you  would  be  right  to  have  no  sympathy  with  me  and  to 
refuse  your  consent.  But  when  you  consider  what  it  really 
means — that  I  mrist  go,  however  painful  or  difficult  it  may 
be,  since  there  is  no  one  else  to  go,  in  order  to  find  Diane's 
ransom,  your  freedom,  peace  for  dear  old  grand'mlre  in 
her  last  days  ;  and  security  from  indigence,  the  worst 
trouble,  the  worst  temptation  of  existence,  for  poor  Helene 
and  Ninon — you  will  see  as  I  do,  that  it  is  one  of  the 
supreme  occasions  of  life,  when  mere  proprieties  must  be 
cast  aside,  and  one  must  act  without  regard  to  what  the 
world  may  think  or  say." 

"  But  the  practical  difficulties  seem  insurmountable," 
Madame  Prevost  yet  protested.  "  Even  if  we  could  raise 

the  money " 

'  The  money  must  be  raised — there  is  no  question  of 
that." 

"  Still,  how  can  you  undertake,  alone  and  unattended, 
such  a  journey  ?  How  can  you  secure  yourself  against  rob- 
bery and  violence  on  that  horrible  island  ?  You  do  not 
know  of  what  you  are  talking.  If  you  were  a  boy  now,  it 
might  be  possible — 

"  Then,"  cried  Yvonne,  springing  to  her  feet,  "  I  will 
be  a  loy  !  We  will  remedy  the  mistake  of  Nature.  Don't 
look  at  me  as  if  you  thought  I  had  gone  mad,  mamma. 
What  I  mean  is  that  I  will  put  on  a  boy's  dress,  and  no 
one  will  suspect  that  I  am  anything  else." 

"  Yvonne,  this  is  most  wild,  most  insane  of  all  !" 

"  No,  mamma,  no  !    Instead  of  that,  it  is  a  happy  in- 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  61 

spiration.  Why  did  I  not  think  of  it  before  ?  How  it 
simplifies  everything  !  It  is  not  I,  Yvonne  Prevost,  who 
will  go,  hampered  by  petticoats  and  proprieties  ;  but  a  boy, 
a  delightful  boy,  who  need  be  troubled  by  neither.  What 
shall  we  call  him  ?  Oh,  Henri  de  Marsillac  of  course,  after 
his  great-great-grandfather  !" 

"  But  there  is  no  De  Marsillac  living,"  said  Madame 
Prevost,  bewildered. 

"  And  he  will  not  be  living  except  in  a  dream,  a  mas- 
querade. Oh,  I  am  perfectly  enchanted  with  the  idea  ! 
Mamma  dear,  don't  you  see  how  charming  it  is  ?  It  is  not 
for  nothing  people  have  called  me  the  man  of  the  family, 
I  will  be  the  man  of  the  family,  and  do  all  that  a  man  can 
or  dare  do,  so  help  me  God  !" 

What  a  picture  she  made  at  this  moment,  standing  so 
straight  in  her  slim,  young  grace  ;  her  face  flashing  eager 
resolve  from  every  eloquent  feature  ;  her  voice  dropping 
over  the  last  passionate,  earnest  words  !  .  Madame  Prevost 
gazed  at  her  as  one  fascinated.  The  contagion  of  such  self- 
forgetfulness,  such  courage,  such  resolve,  was  irresistible. 
She  felt  herself  carried  away,  so  that  all  power  of  objec- 
tion failed  her.  And  it  was  not  only  that  the  need  was 
desperate,  the  occasion  supreme,  and  the  hope  almost 
miraculous  in  its  opportuneness,  but  it  was  not  an  ordinary 
girl  who  proposed  to  do  this  wild  and  daring  thing,  but 
Yvonne — Yvonne,  who  had  won  the  right  to  assume  such 
duty  and  such  risk  ;  who  had  proved  her  capabilities,  her 
judgment  and  her  resource  ;  so  that  the  positions  of  mother 
and  daughter  were  often  reversed,  inasmuch  as  the  latter 
supported  while  the  former  depended.  And  the  habit  of 
dependence  asserted  itself  now.  In  her  heart  Madame  Pre- 
vost felt  that  Yvonne  was  capable  of  anything,  even  of  sus- 
taining such  a  part  as  she  proposed.  Besides,  since  it  was 


62  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

impossible  that  she  could  go  properly  protected  and  attend- 
ed, the  mother,  bred  in  French  traditions,  and  shrinking 
with  horror  from  the  new  code  of  independence  for  girls, 
was  much  more  ready  to  consent  to  her  masquerading  in 
male  attire  than  to  her  going  alone  in  her  own  character. 
And  so  after  a  moment  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper  : 

"  If  I  consent  to  this,  Yvonne,  it  must  be  a  profound  secret. 
No  one  must  know  it  but  ourselves — you  and  me " 

"  And  one  more — me,  mamma  !"  cried  a  voice  which 
made  them  both  start.  "  You  cannot  leave  me  out  of  the 
secret,  whatever  it  is." 

It  was  Diane,  who,  having  noiselessly  entered  in  time  to 
hear  her  mother's  last  words,  now  advanced  across  the 
dark,  polished  floor,  a  vision  of  ghostly  fairness  in  her  cling- 
ing white  night-robe. 

"  You  must  excuse  my  interrupting  you,"  she  went  on  ; 
"  but  I  have  been  waiting  so  long  for  Yvonne  that  at  last 
I  thought  I  would  come  and  find  out  why  the  consultation 
was  so  prolonged  ;  although  of  course  I  know  that  you  are 
talking  about  this  romance  of  a  buried  fortune." 

"It  is  no  romance  at  all,  but  a  reality,"  said  Yvonne. 
"  No  one  can  doubt  the  evidence  of  that  paper,  together 
with  grand'mbre's  testimony  of  what  was  always  known. 
There  is  nothing  of  which  we  may  feel  more  certainly  as- 
sured than  that  our  great-great-grandfather  buried  his 
valuables  in  the  place  he  describes.  The  only  doubt  is 
whether  they  have  been  left  undisturbed  until  now." 

"  And  that  doubt  is  equalled  only  by  the  greater  diffi- 
culty of  finding  out  anything  about  it,"  said  Diane,  curl- 
ing down  on  a  rug  at  her  mother's  feet.  "  In  fact,  as  far 
as  I  can  perceive,  the  fortune,  even  if  undisturbed,  might 
as  well  be  buried  in  the  heart  of  Africa,  so  far  as  we  are 
concerned.  It  is  all  very  well  for  Yvonne  to  declare  that 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  63 

she  will  find  it,  and  for  the  rest  of  us  to  cheer  her  resolu- 
tion ;  but  when  it  comes  to  considering  the  matter  in  cold 
blood,  as  I  have  been  considering  it  for  an  hour  past,  one 
perceives  that  we  are  dreaming  of  impossibilities." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Yvonne,  "it  is  settled  that  I 
am  going  to  seek  it." 

"Indeed!     When?" 

"  Immediately.  There  is  no  time  for  delay,  as  you  well 
know.  At  the  end  of  three  months  the  Burnham  debt 
must  be  paid.  "Within  that  time,  therefore,  I  must  go  to 
Santo  Domingo  and  find  this  money,  if  it  is  to  be  found." 

Diane  looked  up  at  her  sister  in  silence  for  a  moment  ; 
then,  in  a  voice  altogether  changed,  she  asked  gravely  : 

"  Yvonne,  are  you  in  earnest  ?" 

"  Perfectly  in  earnest/*  said  Yvonne.  "  How  can  you 
imagine  otherwise  ?" 

"  But  it  is  impossible.     You  cannot  go  alone." 

"  I  must  go  alone.  Do  you  think  that  considerations  of 
les  convenances  are  for  those  whose  situation  is  as  desperate 
as  ours?" 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  les  convenances,"  said  Diane. 
"  I  was  thinking  of  danger — real  danger.  You  are  as  brave 
as  a  lion,  Yvonne  ;  but  you  are  only  a  girl,  all  the  same  ; 
and  I  don't  see  how  it  is  possible  for  you  to  undertake 
such  an  expedition  as  this  alone.  It  would  involve  risks 
for  a  man." 

"  And  /  shall  be  a  man — for  the  time,"  said  Yvonne. 
"  That  was  the  secret  which  you  overheard  us  discussing, 
and  which  you  must  strictly  keep.  Since  we  have  no  man 
even  remotely  belonging  to  us  to  do  this  thing — no  brother, 
uncle,  or  cousin — and  since  you  are  so  far  right  that,  set- 
ting les  convenances  aside,  I  fear  a  girl  could  hardly  en- 
counter all  the  difficulties  and  risks  involved,  we  have  de- 


04  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

cided  that  I  shall  cease  to  be  a  girl  for  the  time  being  ;  that 
I  shall  put  on  masculine  dress,  and  become  the  boy  I  have 
always  desired  to  be," 

"  0  Yvonne  !" — Diane's  tone  was  full  of  horror  and  con- 
sternation— "  suppose  you  were  discovered  ?" 

"  I  shall  not  be  discovered,  Diane.  Don't  frighten 
mamma  by  such  suggestions.  I  am  confident  of  my  ability 
to  support  the  part,  and  not  less  confident  because  it  will 
give  me  a  sense  of  fearlessness  such  as  a  woman  can  never 
know.  It  will  be  your  brother,  not  a  helpless  sister,  who 
will  go  to  find  and  bring  back  your  ransom." 

"  Yvonne,  Yvonne  !" 

Even  as  Yvonne  had  done  in  the  other  scene  between 
these  three,  Diane  now  sprang  to  her  feet  and  threw  her 
arms  about  her  sister. 

"  I  would  rather  have  you  than  a  hundred  brothers  !" 
she  cried.  "It  is  for  me  that  you  are  going  to  do  this 
reckless  thing — I  know  it.  But  you  must  not.  Mamma, 
tell  her  that  she  must  not.  There  is  no  saying  what  may 
befall  her,  and  it  is  better  that  I  should  be  sacrificed  than 
that  we  should  lose  Yvonne." 

"  Diane,  be  silent  !"  exclaimed  Yvonne,  fearing  that  her 
mother's  hardly  extorted  consent  might  be  recalled.  "  You 
have  no  right  to  interfere.  Mamma,  don't  listen  to  her." 

Poor  Madame  Prevost  sat  motionless  and  silent,  torn  by 
a  struggle  such  as  only  a  mother  could  know.  Diane's 
words  seemed  to  make  more  real  to  her  the  dangers  sur- 
rounding the  wild  enterprise  to  which  Yvonne  had  pledged 
herself  ;  but,  then,  Diane's  presence  also  intensified  her 
consciousness  of  the  other  danger — more  real,  more  menac- 
ing, more  pressing— which  threatened  the  girl  herself. 
Was  it  not  well  to  dare  any  risk  which  might  result  in  res- 
cuing this  self-devoted  victim  from  a  fate  against  which 


THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  65 

every  fibre  of  the  mother's  heart  revolted  ?  Yes,  it  was 
hard  to  make  the  choice  ;  but  since  it  must  be  made — 

"  Diane,"  she  said  suddenly,  in  a  low,  clear  tone, 
"  Yvonne  is  right.  As  there  must  be  one  sacrifice  or  the 
other,  hers  is  the  better.  She  will  undertake  a  difficult, 
even  perhaps  a  perilous,  task  ;  but  she  can  hope  for  the 
help  of  God,  because  her  motive  is  absolutely  unselfish. 
She  is  also  right  in  thinking  that,  since  she  must  go  alone, 
the  attire  of  a  man  will  be  a  protection,  and  enable  her  to 
do  many  things  which  she  might  not  otherwise  be  able  to 
accomplish.  Extraordinary  emergencies  require  sometimes 
extraordinary  exertions  to  meet  them,  and  we  cannot  al- 
ways look  at  things  in  a  conventional  light.  It  will  almost 
break  my  heart  to  see  her  go  away  on  such  a  wild  and  hope- 
less quest — 

44  Not  hopeless  at  all,  mamma  dearest  !"  cried  Yvonne, 
as  her  mother's  voice  broke  down  in  tears.  "  Call  me  fan- 
ciful if  you  will,  but  I  do  not  believe  I  found  that  paper 
at  such  a  time  for  nothing.  I  shall  come  back  to  you 
with  Henri  de  Marsillac's  buried  fortune.  I  am  sure  of 
it." 

"  But,  0  Yvonne,  are  you  not  frightened  to  think  of  all 
you  must  go  through  to  reach  it  ?"  Diane  asked,  looking 
at  her  with  wide  eyes. 

"  Frightened  !  No,"  Yvonne  answered.  "  I  had  no 
feeling  of  the  kind  when  I  thought  of  going  as  a  girl  ;  but 
as  a  boy — how  could  one  be  frightened  as  a  boy  ?" 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  of  boys  and  even  men  who  were 
sometimes  frightened,"  said  Diane.  "  But  if  no  one  is  to 
know  of  your  transformation — and  indeed  I  am  sure  grand' - 
mere  would  die  before  she  would  give  her  consent  to  such 
a  thing — how  are  you  going  to  accomplish  it  ?  Where  will 
you  cease  to  be  a  girl  and  become  a  boy  ?" 


66  THE    MAtf   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

This  was  a  practical  difficulty,  in  the  face  of  which 
Yvonne  remained  silent  a  moment  or  two,  Then,  her 
young  mind  being  accustomed  to  rapid  reflection  and  deci- 
sion, she  said  : 

"  I  shall  have  to  go  to  New  York  to  find  a  steamer  for 
Hayti ;  so  it  is  there  the  transformation  shall  take  place. 
Cousin  Alix  lives  there,  and  she  will  help  me.  We  must 
take  her  into  our  confidence,  but  no  one  else.  Grand'm&re 
and  the  girls  must  know,  of  course,  that  I  have  gone  to  the 
island  ;  but  not  how  I  have  gone  ;  white  our  friends  and 
acquaintances  had  better  not  know  even  that.  They  would 
only  laugh  at  the  idea  of  my  going  to  seek  a  buried  for- 
tune. So  they  must  only  be  told  that  I  have  gone  to  New 
York  to  visit  Cousin  Alix.  It  is  really  nobody's  business 
where  I  have  gone,  but  we  don't  want  to  create  an  unneces- 
sary mystery." 

"By  no  means,"  said  Madame  Prevost.  "It  is  very 
necessary  to  account  for  your  absence,  and  1  am  glad  I  can 
truthfully  say  that  you  have  gone  to  visit  Alix." 

"  It  seems  really  providential  that  Cousin  Alix  should 
have  gone  to  New  York  to  live, ' '  remarked  Diane.  ' '  With  - 
out  her  assistance,  you  would  find  it  hard  to  meet  the  prac- 
tical difficulty  of  changing  from  a  girl  into  a  boy  and  back 
again." 

Yvonne  smiled.  "  I  wish  there  were  no  worse  difficulty 
in  my  path  than  that,"  she  said.  "  But  there  is  yet  one 
more  person  to  be  taken  into  our  confidence,  as  far  as  the 
mere  fact  of  the  journey  to  the  island  and  the  object  with 
which  I  go  is  concerned.  That  is  Mr.  Clarke.  We  must 
go  to  New  Orleans  to-morrow,  mamma,  to  see  him.  It 
will  be  necessary  to  borrow  more  money  on  our  sugar  crop, 
for  I  must  have  enough  to  enable  me  to  meet  any  extraor- 
dinary demands  that  may  arise." 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  67 

"And  if  you  fail?"  observed  Madame  Prevost,  whose 
heart  sank  at  this. 

"  If  I  fail  we  shall  be  ruined,"  replied  Yvonne  calmly. 
' '  But  we  shall  be  that  if  I  do  not  go.  And  I  shall  not  fail. " 


PART   II. 

CHAPTER  I. 

"  THE  end  of  the  matter  is,  Bertie,  that  the  doctors  give 
no  hope  of  your  overcoming  this  constitutional  weakness 
unless  you  live  for  two  years  at  least  in  a  warm  climate." 

Herbert  Atherton  rose  from  his  seat  opposite  his  father 
— the  two  men  had  been  lingering  over  their  after-dinner 
coffee  and  cigars  together,  as  was  their  custom  ;  for  each 
was  partial  to  the  society  of  the  other — and  stood  for  a  few 
minutes  meditatively  on  the  hearth-rug,  with  his  back  to 
the  fire.  He  was  a  tall,  slender  man,  handsome,  and  pos- 
sessing an  air  of  distinction  which  does  not  always  accom- 
pany good  looks  ;  but  a  certain  narrowness  and  hollo wness 
of  chest,  together  with  his  blond  fairness— that  peculiar 
fairness  which  invariably  denotes  a  certain  lack  of  vigor — 
would  have  told  a  physician  at  a  glance  in  what  direction 
lay  the  constitutional  weakness  of  which  his  father  spoke. 
It  was  indeed  an  inherited  weakness  ;  for  his  mother,  whom 
he  strikingly  resembled,  had  died  early  of  consumption. 

"  In  short,"  he  said  at  length,  in  a  quiet  tone,  "  I  have 
to  choose  between  sentence  of  death  and  sentence  of  ban- 
ishment. But  who  is  to  tell  that  the  last  will  avert  the 
first  ?  After  I  have  given  up  all  my  interests  in  life,  pro- 
fessional and  social,  and  idled  away  two  years  in  some  in- 
valid resort,  who  is  to  guarantee  me  against  dying  at  last, 
as  so  many  other  poor  devils  have  died  who  were  persuaded 


THE    MAX    OF   THE    FAMILY.  69 

to  do  the  same  ?  But  if  the  dying  must  be  done  within  a 
limited  space  of  time,  I  should  much  prefer  to  make  shorter 
work  of  it  and  die  in  harness,  with  the  satisfaction  of  liv- 
ing, rather  than  merely  existing,  to  the  last." 

"  You  mistake  the  case,  my  dear  boy,"  said  his  father 
earnestly.  "  The  doctors  have  spoken  very  frankly,  and 
they  assure  me  that  your  lungs  are  not  seriously  affected  at 
present  ;  but  there  is  a  weakness,  a  predisposition  to — the 
disease  we  fear,  which  makes  it  necessary  for  you  to  live 
for  two  years  at  least  in  a  climate  that  is  warm,  equable, 
and  healthful.  At  the  end  of  that  time — if  you  give  up 
all  work  and  live  as  much  as  possible  in  the  open  air — they 
say  that  the  weakness  will  be  overcome,  and  your  prospects 
for  a  long  life  as  good  as  any  one's." 

"  Very  kind  of  them  to  offer  such  assurances,"  said  the 
young  man  sarcastically.  "  It  is  the  old  story,  I  fear  ; 
and  if  I  consulted  my  own  inclination,  I  should  take  my 
chances  for  life  or  death  here,  rather  than  consent  to  this 
banishment  with  all  that  it  involves." 

"  But  you  will  not  consult  your  own  inclinations,  Her- 
bert?" said  his  father,  yet  more  earnestly.  "You  will 
think  of  me  and  of  your  future.  What  are  two  years  at 
your  age?" 

"  Very  much/'  replied  the  other  :  "  more  than  they 
would  be  either  earlier  or  later  ;  for  just  now,  as  you  well 
know,  I  am  on  the  road  to  success  ;  but  if  I  drop  out  of 
the  race,  others  will  step  in  and  gain  all  for  which  I  am 
striving.  Life  does  not  halt  an  instant  for  any  man." 

"It  is  hard,  my  boy — I  know  it  is  hard  !"  the  elder 
Atherton  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  deep  sympathy. 
"  It  grieves  me  as  much  as  it  grieves  you  to  see  you  drop 
out  of  the  race,  as  you  express  it,  even  for  a  limited  time " 

"It  is  not  for  a  limited  time,"  interrupted  the  other, 


70  THE   MAN    OF  THE   FAMILY. 

turning  his  face  away.  "  Don' t  you  see? — this  is  final. 
It  means  that  if  I  am  to  live  at  all  hereafter,  it  will  be  as 
one  of  the  great  army  of  invalids  and  valetudinarians  idling 
away  existence  in  '  health  resorts, '  with  no  aspiration  in 
life  beyond  that  of  avoiding  cold  and  nursing  a  vital  flame 
that  will  continue  to  grow  feebler  year  by  year.  Father,  I 
would  rather  die  sharply,  quickly.  If  you  would  only  not 
press  the  point  of  this  going  away '1 

"  But  I  must,  Bertie,  I  must  !"  said  the  father,  rising 
and  laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "  I  must  beg  you 
to  do  it  for  my 'sake,  if  not  for  your  own.  You  know  what 
you  are  to  me.  Is  it  necessary  to  tell  you  that  since  your 
mother  died  I  have  not  had  a  thought  except  for  you  and 
your  future  ?  Every  hope  I  have  in  the  world  is  bound  up 
in  you  ;  and  for  my  sake,  therefore — that  this  inherited 
curse  may  be  averted,  and  I  may  not  be  left  desolate  in  my 
age — I  implore  you,  my  son,  to  follow  the  advice  of  the 
doctors  and  go  away." 

Only  a  selfish  and  callous  nature  could  have  withstood 
such  an  appeal,  uttered  by  a  father  who,  although  usually 
reserved  in  the  expression  of  affection,  had  proved  his  de- 
votion by  every  act  of  his  life.  Indeed,  so  well  did  the 
two  understand  each  other  that  Herbert  Atherton  had 
never  for  an  instant  doubted  his  father's  love  any  more 
than  the  comprehension  and  sympathy  which  were  always 
to  be  felt  under  his  quiet  reticence.  What  he  was  to  him 
he  knew  without  need  of  speech  ;  but  the  speech  itself — 
the  very  unaccustomedness  of  which  lent  it  additional  force 
— touched  him  deeply.  The  quiver  of  the  older  man's 
voice,  even  more  than  the  words  he  uttered,  gave  him  a 
poignant  sense  of  what  he  owed  to  this  love  which  had  al- 
ways encompassed  him,  but  had  never  before  demanded 
anything.  What  it  now  demanded  was  that  he  should 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  71 

live,  even  if  in  order  to  do  so  he  must  sacrifice  all  that 
made  life  of  value  to  his  young  ambition  ;  even  if  he  must 
fall  into  the  routine  of  that  semi-invalid  existence  which 
he  had  watched  in  others  with  a  sense  of  dread  and  repul- 
sion produced  by  the  lurking  fear  that  it  might  be  his  own 
fate.  He  had  always  vowed  in  his  heart  that  he  would  not 
submit  to  it  ;  that  when  the  time  came  to  choose  he  would 
take  a  quick  death  in  preference  to  a  lingering  death-in- 
life  ;  but  now  that  the  time  had  come,  he  saw  that  such 
choice  would  be  but  selfishness.  For  his  father's  sake  he 
must  accept  life  on  any  terms  that  might  be  granted  him, 
however  bitter  they  might  be.  And  so  it  was  that  after  a 
short  pause  he  replied  quietly  : 

"  My  dear  father,  the  expression  of  your  wish  is  enough. 
Of  course  I  will  go  since  you  desire  it,  and  since  such  is 
the  medical  sentence.  Have  the  doctors  indicated  any  par- 
ticular place  of  banishment,  or  am  I  to  be  allowed  to 
choose  within  the  rather  vague  limits  of  '  a  warm  cli- 
mate '  ?" 

"They  have  not  recommended  any  particular  place," 
answered  Mr.  Atherton,  relieved  by  an  acquiescence  more 
prompt  than  he  had  expected.  "It  is  left  for  you  to  de- 
cide where  you  will  go.  But  since,  in  connection  with  the 
warm  climate,  Dr.  Talford  mentioned  a  sea- voyage  as  desir- 
able, I  have  myself  thought  of  the  West  Indies." 

"  The  West  Indies  !"  repeated  Herbert.  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders  with  a  gesture  of  indifference.  "  Why  not? 
They  offer  a  wide  field  in  which  to  do  nothing,  and  are  at 
least  not  overrun  with  invalids,  like  Florida  and  Southern 
California.  If  a  man  must  drop  as  a  wreck  out  of  the 
stream  of  life,  I  fancy  that  a  West  Indian  island  is  as  good 
a  place  as  another  to  be  stranded  upon." 

"  You  distress  me  by  speaking  in  that  manner,"  said  his 


72  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

father.  "  There  is  no  question  of  your  dropping  as  a  wreck 
out  of  the  stream  of  life.  You  are  only  asked  to  take  cer- 
tain precautions  against  a  possible  danger  ;  and  I  see  no 
reason  to  doubt  the  assurance  of  the  doctors  that,  these 
precautions  taken,  such  a  danger  may  never  arise.  So  let 
us  face  the  necessity  cheerfully" — he  sat  down  again  in  his 
chair — "  and  decide  what  is  best  for  you  to  do." 

To  face  the  prospect  cheerfully  was  a  little  beyond  Her- 
bert Atherton's  powers  ;  but  to  face  it  philosophically  was 
at  least  within  his  reach.  So  he,  too,  sat  down  again  and 
lighted  a  fresh  cigar  as  he  inquired  : 

"  Have  you  any  plan  to  propose  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  father  ;  "  I  have  a  plan  which  I  hope 
you  will  approve.  I  sympathize  so  deeply  with  your  ob- 
jection to  being  ordered  away  to  vegetate  in  idleness,  that 
I  have  been  considering  what  can  be  done  to  make  the  ban- 
ishment less  irksome  to  you,  and  I  have  decided  that  the 
only  possible  thing  is  to  provide  you  with  some  occupation 
and  interest." 

"  Rather  difficult  to  do  if  I  am  condemned  to  a  valetu- 
dinarian existence  for  two  years,"  answered  the  young  man 
despondently.  "  But  I  am  open  to  any  suggestions.  Only 
don't  ask  me  to  become  a  fisherman  or  a  botanist.  Those 
are  the  only  things  the  West  Indies  seem  to  suggest." 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  propose  either  of  those  pursuits  to 
you,"  returned  Mr.  Atherton,  smiling.  "  My  idea  is  very 
different.  Have  I  ever  mentioned  to  you  that  I  possess  an 
interest  in  a  sugar  estate  in  the  island  of  Santo  Domingo  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  you  ever  have.  Isn't  it  rather  a  singular 
investment  ?" 

' '  On  the  contrary,  it  has  proved  very  profitable — until 
lately.  Together  with  some  of  my  friends,  I  was  induced 
to  enter  into  the  speculation  by  a  man  on  whose  judgment 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  73 

and  integrity  we  had  implicit  reliance  ;  and  the  result  was 
all  we  anticipated  so  long  as  he  was  alive  to  manage  the 
property.  But,  unfortunately,  he  died  rather  more  than  a 
year  ago,  and  since  then  affairs  have  been  by  no  means  so 
satisfactory.  The  person  who  has  the  management  of  the 
estate  now  is  a  man  whom  he  trained  and  in  whom  he  had 
the  greatest  confidence.  This  confidence  induced  us  to 
leave  matters  in  his  hands  when  poor  Burton  died  ;  but 
we  are  not  at  all  satisfied  with  his  management.  It  is 
necessary,  therefore,  that  we  should  send  some  one  to  look 
into  affairs  ;  and  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  this  may  serve  as 
an  occupation  for  you.  You  can  go  out,  examine  into  mat- 
ters, take  as  much  or  as  little  of  the  responsibility  of  man- 
agement as  you  care  to  assume,  and  meanwhile  discover 
how  the  climate  of  the  island — said  to  be  the  best  in  the 
West  Indies — suits  you." 

"  It  sounds  quite  promising,"  replied  Atherton  ;  "  and 
leads  one  to  think  that  in  making  your  investment  you 
foresaw  the  possibility  of  some  day  needing  to  find  an  occu- 
pation in  the  tropics  for  an  invalid  son.  At  least  the  exist- 
ence of  the  estate  provides  me  with  a  spot  a  little  more 
definite  than  the  equator  towards  which  to  turn  my  face. 
For  of  course  I'll  go,  overhaul  the  agent,  and  perhaps — 
who  knows? — turn  sugar-planter  and  lotus-eater,  and  never 
come  back  again.  What,  by  the  way,  do  I  know  of  Santo 
Domingo  ?  Very  little,  I  fear,  except  that  it  was  the  His- 
panola  of  Columbus  and  the  scene  of  many  romantic  and 
tragic  histories." 

"  It  is  the  richest,  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  undevel- 
oped and  the  most  unfortunate  of  the  West  Indian 
islands,"  said  his  father.  "  You  will  find  some  books 
about  it  in  the  library,  which  I  collected  at  the  time  we 
bought  the  sugar  estate.  Since  then  I  have  met  many  busi- 


74  THE   MAK   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

ness  men  and  planters  from  the  island,  and  they  all  agree 
in  describing  the  climate  as  one  of  rare  perfection.  It  was 
that  made  me  think  of  sending  you  there. ' ' 

"  You  don't  know  how  grateful  I  am  to  you  for  giving 
me  an  object  to  lessen  the  weariness  of  enforced  exile  and 
idleness,"  said  the  young  man  earnestly.  "It  seems  to 
put  a  different  face  upon  the  necessity  of  going.  And 
this  reminds  me— did  Talford  say  anything  about  how  soon 
I  should  go?" 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  answered  Mr.  Atherton  reluc- 
tantly. "  He  wishes  you  to  be  in  the  tropics  before  the 
severe  weather  sets  in.  And  if  a  thing  is  to  be  done " 

"  '  Then  'twere  well  it  were  done  quickly,'  "  quoted 
Herbert,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  again.  "  I  shall  find  out 
to-morrow  when  the  next  steamer  for  Santo  Domingo  sails. 
Meanwhile  there  are  one  or  two  places  I  have  promised  to 
look  in  on  to-night.  Even  a  condemned  man  may  be  per- 
mitted to  make  his  adieux  to  his  friends." 


CHAPTER  II. 

TEN  days  later,  and  in  the  brightness  of  a  December 
afternoon  which  had  still  a  touch  of  Indian  summer  mild- 
ness, the  two  Athertons  stood  together  on  the  deck  of  the 
Clyde  steamship  bound  from  New  York  to  Santo  Domingo. 
"With  hatchways  closed  and  ready  for  departure,  she  lay  at 
her  pier,  taking  her  last  consignment  in  the  form  of  pas- 
sengers before  sailing.  Father  and  son  each  wore  an  air  of 
cheerfulness,  assumed  for  the  benefit  of  the  other  ;  and  in 
the  intervals  of  exchanging  those  last  words  which  always 
seem  so  inadequate,  they  watched  with  some  surprise  the 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  75 

number  of  passengers  arriving,  accompanied  by  the  usual 
impedimenta  of  steamer  trunks  and  deck-chairs. 

"  It  begins  to  look  as  if  Santo  Domingo  really  formed  a 
part  of  the  civilized  world,"  observed  Herbert  presently. 
"  The  steward  tells  me  that  every  state -room  is  taken,  and 
these  people  are  in  appearance  quite  like  the  average  of  the 
ordinary  ocean-travelling  public.  I  have  felt  as  if  I  would 
be  setting  sail  for  a  place  as  distant,  vague,  and  far  removed 
from  the  conditions  of  modern  life  as  the  Fortunate  Isles  ; 
but  the  illusion  begins  to  be  shattered  by  these  dapper  men 
of  business,  and  these  fashionable-looking  women,  with 
their  bouquets  and  attendant  friends.  One  might  fancy 
one's  self  on  the  Majestic  or  the  Umbria.  Where  are  the 
West  Indian  Creoles  one  would  naturally  expect  to  see,  with 
their  picturesque  languor  and  grace  ?" 

"  There  are  some  of  them  here,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Ather- 
ton.  "  I  have  seen  several  typical  West  Indian  faces.  On 
the  whole,  I  find  the  appearance  of  the  passengers  more 
satisfactory  than  I  expected,  and  I  hope  you  may  find  some 
companionable  people  among  them." 

"  Doubtful,"  replied  the  young  man,  in  a  disparaging 
tone,  which  was  the  result  of  his  deep  though  concealed 
depression  of  spirit.  "  But  I  am  fortunately  very  indepen- 
dent of  companionship  on  an  ocean  voyage  or  elsewhere. 
Ah,  there  is  the  signal  for  departure  !  Good-by,  my  dear 
father,  good-by  !" 

"  Good-by,  my  boy  !"  said  the  father  huskily.  '  God 
bless  you  !  And,  whatever  you  do,  take  care  of  yourself." 

"  I  shall  have  nothing  else  to  do,  so  don't  be  afraid  of 
my  failing  in  that  duty,"  answered  the  son,  with  an  at- 
tempt at  cheerfulness.  "  God  bless  you,  sir  ;  and  again 
good-by  !" 

It  was  as  their  hands  unclasped  and  the  father  hurried 


76  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

away  down  the  gang-plank  that  an  echo  of  his  last  words 
struck  on  Atherton's  ear. 

"  Good-bj,  my  dear,  good-by  !  Take  care  of  yourself, 
and  may  God  take  care  of  you  !" 

These  words,  spoken  close  beside  him,  with  a  fervor  of 
accent  uncommon  even  in  such  farewells,  made  him  half 
unconsciously  look  around  to  see  who  had  uttered  them. 
His  glance  fell  on  a  lady  who  was  in  the  act  of  embracing 
a  slender,  handsome  boy  of  eighteen  or  nineteen  years. 
She  seemed  to  restrain  with  great  difficulty  an  inclination 
to  tears  as  she  kissed  him  repeatedly.  Then,  saying  ear- 
nestly, "  May  you  have  the  success  your  heroism  de- 
serves !"  she  turned  to  follow  the  rest  of  the  shore-going 
contingent  down  the  gang-plank. 

A  few  minutes  later,  as  the  ship  moved  slowly  out  of  her 
dock,  a  group  composed  of  the  friends  of  those  on  board 
gathered  at  the  end  of  the  pier  and  waved  their  farewells 
with  many  fluttering  handkerchiefs.  Apart  from  them, 
however,  stood  two  persons  :  one  a  gray-haired  man,  who 
only  watched,  with  a  sadness  he  no  longer  made  any  attempt 
to  disguise,  the  tall,  well-known  form  which  carried  away 
with  it  his  heart  and  hopes  ;  and  the  other  a  delicate,  dark- 
eyed  lady,  who  on  her  part  no  longer  restrained  the  tears 
which  dimmed  her  power  of  seeing  the  slender  figure  wav- 
ing her  so  bravely  a  last  farewell  from  the  deck  of  the  re- 
ceding vessel. 

When  the  wharf  with  these  figures  upon  it  finally  disap- 
peared from  view,  as  the  New  York  steamed  down  the  bay, 
Atherton  turned  from  the  rail  against  which  he  had  been 
leaning,  in  contemplation  sad  as  that  of  his  father  ;  and, 
telling  himself  that  the  depression  which  weighed  upon 
him  must  be  cast  aside,  began  to  pace  the  deck,  to  inhale 
the  sea-breeze  which  came  from  the  vast  ocean  expanse 


THE   MAX    OF   THE    FAMILY.  77 

towards  which  they  were  hastening,  and  to  make  some  at- 
tempt to  interest  himself  in  observing  the  fellow-travellers 
whom  fate  had  granted  him. 

It  was  then  that  his  glance  fell  again  on  the  boy  whom 
he  had  before  observed  ;  and  he  was  struck  by  the  dejec- 
tion which  his  attitude  expressed,  as,  standing  at  the  ex- 
treme end  of  the  after-deck,  with  one  arm  passed  around  a 
stanchion,  he  kept  his  face  steadily  turned  towards  the  land 
they  were  leaving.  The  pose  of  the  young  figure  seemed 
to  Atherton  to  express  a  despondency  almost  akin  to  de- 
spair ;  and  the  droop  of  the  head  was  suggestive  of  tears, 
which  might  have  dropped  into  the  green  brine  below. 
"  Poor  boy  !"  he  thought,  as  he  recalled  the  fervor  of  the 
farewell  he  had  overheard  ;  and  then  he  remembered  the 
last  words  of  the  lady,  which  even  in  that  moment  had 
faintly  excited  his  surprise — "  May  you  have  the  success 
which  your  heroism  deserves  !" 

Heroism  !  That  was  something  uncommon  ;  and,  glad 
of  anything  to  divert  his  thoughts,  Atherton,  as  he  paced 
back  and  forth,  cast  curious  glances  now  and  again  at  the 
slight,  motionless  figure,  while  idly  wondering  what  form 
the  heroism  in  question  took.  Whatever  it  was,  it  cer- 
tainly did  not  just  now  sustain  a  manifestly  sinking  heart. 
But  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  a  sinking  heart  and 
a  sinking  courage  ;  and  Atherton,  knowing  this,  felt  his 
sympathy  so  touched  by  the  sadness  of  the  lonely  boy  that 
at  last,  pausing,  he  proved  his  interest  by  speaking. 

"  We  are  likely  to  have  a  fine  night,"  he  observed  ;  for 
the  sun  was  now  sinking  over  the  land  in  a  clear  bed  of  gold. 

The  boy  started  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  turned 
towards  him  a  face  on  which  there  was  an  almost  offended 
look.  The  expression  surprised  Atherton ;  yet  in  the 
midst  of  his  surprise  he  was  struck  by  the  character  of  the 


78  THE   MAtf    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

countenance  thus  revealed — its  mingled  delicacy  and 
strength,  the  virile  resolution  of  the  clear-cut  mouth,  the 
feminine  sweetness  of  the  brow  and  eyes,  the  spirited  intel- 
ligence which  breathed  in  every  feature,  and  the  striking 
picturesqueness  of  the  whole.  As  he  gazed  at  it,  saying  to 
himself,  "  What  an  attractive  face  !"  its  owner  evidently 
remembered  that  he  had  no  cause  for  offence  in  the  fact 
that  this  gentleman  had  addressed  him,  and  answered  cold- 
ly, yet  courteously,  as  he  looked  away  again  : 

"  So  it  appears."  * 

It  was  now  Atherton's  turn  to  start  ;  for  the  voice  which 
replied  would  have  been  singularly  sweet  and  refined  even 
for  a  woman,  with  an  accent  that  could  not  be  described  as 
foreign,  yet  which  was  clearly  produced  by  the  habitual 
use  of  some  speech  more  musical  than  English.  Every  one 
knows  that  there  is  no  more  unmistakable  indication  of 
character  and  breeding  than  the  voice  ;  but  there  are  some 
persons  peculiarly  susceptible  to  the  effect  of  these  inflec- 
tions and  intonations  which  express  so  much,  and  Atherton 
was  one  of  those  persons.  His  interest  in  his  young  fellow- 
traveller  was  sensibly  quickened  by  the  discovery  that  he 
possessed  a  voice  altogether  exquisite.  But  for  this  he 
would  probably  have  turned  away  from  one  so  plainly  in- 
disposed to  meet  his  advances  ;  as  it  was,  he  rather 
surprised  himself  by  making  a  second  effort  at  conver- 
sation. 

'  That  doesn't  mean,  however,  that  we  may  not  find  it 
a  little  rough  when  we  get  outside.  Are  you  a  good  sailor  ?" 

"  I  think  I  am  rather  a  good  sailor,"  the  other  replied, 
still  keeping  his  face  turned  away,  and  speaking  with 
marked  reserve.  "  But  this  is  my  first  long  voyage,  so  I 
am  not  sure." 

'  Short  voyages  are  worse  than  long  ones  for  testing  cer- 


THE    MAX    OP   THE   FAMILY.  79 

tain  sailing  qualities,"  Atherton  said.  "  Then  you  are  not 
a  West  Indian  ?' ' 

"  No,"  was  the  quick  reply,  and  the  face  turned  towards 
him  again  with  a  flashing  look  of  interrogation.  "Why 
should  you  think  so  ?" 

"  I  can  hardly  say  that  I  thought  so.  Only — this  is  a 
West  Indian  ship,  and  your  appearance  and  voice  are  sug- 
gestive of  something  foreign." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  the  boy  replied 
with  an  effort,  as  if  disliking  and  resenting  the  necessity 
to  speak  of  himself  :  "  I  am  from  Louisiana." 

"  Ah,  a  French  Creole  !"  said  Atherton  involuntarily. 
"  That  accounts  for  the  suggestion.  Pray  excuse  me  !"  he 
added.  "  I  had  no  intention  of  making  personal  remarks, 
but  I  am  always  interested  in  the  study  of  national  types  ; 
and  am  never  brought  into  contact  with  a  stranger  that  I 
do  not  find  myself  at  once  mentally  determining  from  what 
branch  of  the  human  family  he  springs.  There  is  usually 
very  little  difficulty  in  deciding." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  the  boy,  with  the  manner  of  one 
who  is  drawn  into  talking  against  his  will,  "  that  to  decide 
at  once  would  be  quite  difficult,  unless  you  possessed  a  very 
wide  knowledge  of  the  different  types  of  humanity." 

"  On  the  contrary,  a  very  moderate  amount  of  the  knowl- 
edge derived  from  travel  renders  one  quite  familiar  with 
the  marked  types,"  Atherton  answered  ;  "  and  their  vari- 
ous interminglings  are  readily  traced.  A  glance  is  gener- 
ally sufficient  to  enable  me  to  ticket  satisfactorily  all  those 
whom  I  encounter.  But,  you  see,  there  was  more"  than  a 
glance  required  to  ticket  you, "  he  added,  smiling. 

The  other  did  not  smile  in  reply.  He  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment before  answering,  looking  out  again  over  the  wide  ex- 
panse of  tossing  waters  to  the  vanishing  city  and  the  pale 


80  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

winter  sunset  beyond  ;  and  then  saying  abruptly,  "  You 
will  do  me  a  favor  if  you  will  not  attempt  to  ticket  me  at 
all,"  he  turned  and  walked  quickly  away. 

It  says  much  for  Atherton's  amiability  that  he  was  more 
amused  than  indignant  as  he  watched  the  slender  young 
figure  hastening  across  the  deck.  In  fact,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  sense  of  pity  for  the  boy's  folly  and  the  mistake  he 
had  made.  For  not  to  gauge  accurately  the  quality  of  those 
with  whom  the  chances  of  life  bring  us  into  contact  is  to 
be  guilty  sometimes  of  very  great  mistakes.  Without  en- 
tertaining any  undue  sense  of  his  own  importance,  Ather- 
ton  was  thoroughly  aware  of  the  enviable  position  which 
he  occupied  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  ;  and  was  as  well  as- 
sured that  his  advances  would  have  been  rebuffed  by  no 
other  passenger  on  board  as  that  he  would  not  have  thought 
of  making  them  to  any  other.  It  was  his  custom  to  hold 
aloof  from  all  casual  acquaintance,  not  so  much  from  super- 
ciliousness as  from  a  fastidiousness,  which  made  him  slow 
in  choosing  friends  and  associates.  Indeed,  according  to 
the  invariable  rule  of  such  a  temperament,  his  friends  were 
few  and  his  associates  generally  characterized  him  as  ' '  diffi- 
cult to  know."  He  was  himself  surprised  at  the  impulse 
which  had  prompted  him  to  address  this  young  stranger, 
and  he  could  not  but  smile  at  the  unexpected  repulse  he 
had  received. 

Naturally,  however,  he  decided  that  he  would  hereafter 
ignore  one  so  ungracious  ;  therefore  it  was  with  surprise, 
unmixed  with  pleasure,  that  on  taking  his  place  at  the 
dinner- table  he  found  the  seat  on  his  right  occupied  by  the 
young  Louisianian.  The  surprise  was  as  great,  the  pleas- 
ure evidently  as  little,  on  the  side  of  the  latter  as  on  his 
own.  He  glanced  up  quickly  as  the  chair  was  swung 
around  ;  and  when  he  saw  who  dropped  into  it,  a  deep  flush 


THE    MAX    OF   THE    FAMILY.  81 

mounted  to  his  face  and  he  looked  away.  It  is  probable 
that  he  felt  conscious  and  ashamed  of  his  rudeness  on  thus 
seeing  the  object  of  it  beside  him  again  ;  but  Atherton 
read  his  manner  otherwise,  and  his  own  face  took  an  ex- 
pression familiar  to  those  who  had  at  times  made  advances 
which  he  did  not  care  to  receive,  as  he  turned  slightly  in 
his  chair,  so  as  to  present  his  shoulder  to  the  offender,  and 
began  to  examine  the  menu. 

His  order  given,  he  glanced  up  and  down  the  table,  and, 
with  the  practised  eye  of  a  man  accustomed  to  much  travel, 
had  no  difficulty  in  determining  the  different  types  which 
composed  the  thirty  or  forty  human  beings  whose  numbers 
sea-sickness  had  not  yet  diminished.  Half  a  dozen  he  at 
once  perceived  belonged  to  the  class  of  the  omnipresent 
German  commercial  traveller,  who  is  overspreading  all  the 
countries  of  the  world  and  the  islands  of  the  sea.  Another 
group  were  distinctively  West  Indian — quiet,  olive-skinned 
men,  with  great,  slumberous,  black  eyes,  who  spoke  Span- 
ish among  themselves.  Only  one  showed  in  his  chocolate- 
colored  complexion  the  trace  of  negro  blood.  Then  came 
a  pair  of  alert  young  Americans,  civil  engineers,  going 
down  to  assist  in  the  construction  of  a  Dominican  railway  ; 
a  number  of  nondescript  individuals,  who  might  be  either 
tourists  or  possible  investors,  or  both  ;  and  finally  several 
ladies,  who,  as  was  to  be  learned  by  the  conversation  brisk- 
ly carried  on  between  them,  were  the  wives  and  daughters 
of  planters  residing  on  the  island. 

By  the  time  dinner  was  nearly  over  the  swell  of  the  At- 
lantic surge  could  be  distinctly  felt,  and  the  steamer  began 
to  swing  to  it  in  a  manner  which  shortened  the  ceremony 
of  dining  for  several  passengers.  Atherton,  quietly  pro- 
ceeding with  his  dessert,  saw  his  right-hand  neighbor  turn- 
ing pale,  and  was  not  surprised  when  he  suddenly  rose  and 


82  THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

left  the  table  as  abruptly  as  he  had  quitted  him  on  deck. 
He  smiled  with  a  slight  sense  of  sardonic  amusement. 
"  Not  such  a  very  good  sailor,  after  all,  my  young  friend  !" 
he  thought. 

A  few  minutes  later,  having  finished  his  coffee,  he  went 
on  deck  for  a  last  glimpse  of  the  lights  of  Sandy  Hook. 
The  night  was  clear  and  sharply  cold,  but  the  briny  breath 
of  the  sea  came  to  him  with  a  sense  of  refreshment.  As  he 
stood  filling  his  lungs  with  it,  the  starlight  of  a  radiant  sky 
revealed  the  wide  expanse  of  tossing  waves,  which  the 
lights  of  the  ship,  gleaming  across  them,  showed  to  be 
foam-crested.  There  was  a  promise  of  boisterousness  in 
these  racing,  yeasty  surges,  which  now  and  again  leaped  up 
as  if  in  wild  sport,  and  smote  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  send- 
ing aloft  a  shower  of  spray  ;  but  as  yet  the  sea  was  not 
very  rough,  and  Atherton  paced  the  limited  deck-space 
with  a  sense  of  keen  enjoyment. 

Already  he  felt  a  reaction  from  the  depression  consequent 
upon  departure,  and  a  conviction  that  the  voyage  alone 
would  do  much  for  him.  Although  he  had  struggled 
against  it,  he  knew  that  this  enforced  rest  was  really  what 
he  needed.  Ever  since  his  return  from  university  life 
abroad,  he  had  been  working  too  hard — ambition  with  him 
proving  even  a  keener  spur  than  the  need  of  making  money 
with  other  men.  And  this  intense  application,  this  burn- 
ing the  candle  of  life  at  both  ends,  had  developed  the  con* 
stitutional  weakness  which  else  might  never  have  appeared. 
Now  he  must  perforce  rest ;  and  the  keen,  salt  breath  of 
the  sea  seemed  to  scatter  his  dark  forebodings  of  a  life 
doomed  in  its  prime  to  invalid  inaction,  and  to  tell  hint 
that  there  was  nothing  wrong  which  Nature,  the  great 
healer,  could  not  restore  without  the  help  of  other  agencies. 

He  was  not  tempted  to  enter  the  smoking-room,  where  a 


THE  MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  83 

sound  of  tongues — most  of  them  speaking  English  with  a 
German  accent — testified  to  the  love  of  talking,  which  is  a 
distinguishing  characteristic  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
human  race.  So  he  paced  back  and  forth  in  the  starlight, 
with  a  renewal  of  that  sense  of  pleasure  in  mere  existence 
which  had  been  lost  to  him  for  some  time. 

It  was  in  one  of  his  turns  around  the  deck  that  he  pres- 
ently observed  the  dark  outlines  of  a  figure  sitting  in  a 
chair  placed  under  the  shelter  of  the  after-cabin.  At  first 
he  paid  no  attention  to  it ;  but  when  he  returned  again 
and  yet  again  from  a  tramp  which  extended  as  far  as  the 
bow  of  the  ship,  and  had  even  taken  in  the  hurricane  deck, 
to  find  the  same  figure  still  motionless  in  its  place,  he 
began  to  wonder  a  little  who  was  as  fond  of  solitude  as  him- 
self. In  order  to  satisfy  this  faint  curiosity,  he  dropped 
into  a  vacant  chair  beside  the  other,  that  he  might  take 
advantage  of  its  shelter  to  strike  a  light  for  his  cigar  ;  and, 
as  he  struck  it,  glanced  at  the  quiet  figure. 

A  pair  of  large,  startled  eyes — which  seemed  to  him  even 
in  this  brief  instant  beautiful  as  those  of  a  fawn — met  his 
own,  and  he  saw  that,  the  lover  of  solitude  was  the  boy 
whom  he  had  addressed  before  dinner.  A  certain  sense  of 
vexation  crossed  his  mind  as  he  recognized  him,  mingled 
with  regret  that  he  had  taken  the  seat ;  but  to  leave  it  now 
with  any  abruptness  would  be  to  give  to  the  incident  of  the 
afternoon  an  importance  which  it  did  not  deserve,  and  to 
let  an  ill-mannered  boy  suppose  that  the  rudeness  had 
power  to  affect  him.  He  therefore  remained  quite  still, 
smoking  placidly  ;  and  had  so  far  abstracted  his  thoughts 
that  he  had  almost  forgotten  the  presence  of  his  silent 
companion,  when  the  latter  suddenly  spoke. 

"  I  think,  Monsieur,  that  I  owe  you  an  apology,"  said 
the  sweet  voice  with  the  slight  French  accent  which  had 


84  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

charmed  his  ear  when  he  heard  it  before.  "  I  fear  that  I 
was  very  rude  when  you  spoke  to  me  this  afternoon.  I  did 
not  intend  to  be  so.  I  only  wanted  just  then  to  be  alone 
with  my  thoughts,  aud  so— I  hardly  knew  what  I  said." 

"  It  was  of  no  importance,"  answered  Atherton,  whose 
sense  of  vexation  melted  away  as  if  by  magic  under  the  in- 
fluence of  those  exquisite  tones.  Just  to  keep  that  voice 
sounding  in  his  ear  he  would  have  forgiven  a  much  greater 
offence.  "  It  was  really  my  fault  for  disturbing  you,"  he 
continued.  "  I  can  only  plead  a  good  intention.  I  per- 
ceived that  you  were  feeling  despondent,  and  I  fancied  a 
little  distraction  might  be  good  for  you." 

"  I  have  thought  since  that  perhaps  what  you  meant  was 
a  kindness,  and  that  I  was  very  ungracious,"  added  the 
boy.  "  But,  you  see,  I  did  not  take  it  in  that  way.  I 
only  thought  of  you  as  —presuming. " 

"  By  Jove  !"  said  Atherton  to  himself,  too  much  aston- 
ished for  indignation.  "  What  kind  of  a  youngster  can 
this  be  ?"  Aloud  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  good-natured  irony  : 
"  Your  royal  highness  must  accept  my  apologies.  It  is 
certainly  not  my  habit  to  be  '  presuming.'  ' 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  the  boy  said, 
catching  his  breath  a  little  : 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  rude  again.  I  should  not  have 
used  that  word.  Of  course  it  strikes  you  as  absurd." 

"  Rather,  I  confess,"  Atherton  replied,  a  little  dryly. 
"  Naturally,  I  don't  know  how  exalted  your  rank  may  be  ; 
but  unless  it  is  very  exalted — and  I  have  never  heard  that 
there  are  princes  in  Louisiana — you  are  undoubtedly  guilty 
of  absurdity  in  thinking  that  a  man  presumes  because  he 
addresses  you  without  an  introduction." 

"  You  are  right — I  see  that  now,"  said  the  boy  hastily, 
with  a  humility  in  bis  tones  which  was  strikingly  at  vari- 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  85 

ance  with  the  suggestion  of  arrogance  in  the  objectionable 
word.  "You  must  excuse  me.  I  forget  many  things 
which  I  should  remember.  I  will  endeavor  not  to  forget 
again  that  I  am  only  an  insignificant  boy,  whose  loneliness 
you  pitied,  and  who  should  have  been  grateful  for  your 
kindness  instead  of  repulsing  it." 

Again  Atherton  felt  any  possible  anger  disarmed  by 
those  accents,  which  seemed  breathed  like  music  out  of 
the  darkness. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  that  if  you  will  take  the  advice  of 
a  man  a  good  deal  older  than  yourself,  you  will  be  slow  to 
repulse  any  one  until  quite  sure  that  such  repulse  is  de- 
served. Otherwise  you  will  make  many  enemies,  and  per- 
haps lose  some  friends.  And  one  just  entering  upon  life 
can  hardly  afford  to  begin  by  either  making  the  one  or  los- 
ing the  other." 

' '  '  Hast  thou  a  thousand  friends,  it  is  not  enough  ;  hast 
thou  one  enemy,  it  is  too  much,'  "  murmured  the  boy,  as  if 
to  himself.  "  Yes,  your  advice  is  good  ;  and  I  really  have 
sense  enough  to  know  it  of  myself.  But  when  you  ad- 
dressed me  I  was  feeling  so  miserable  that  I  resented  any  in- 
trusion upon  my  wretchedness." 

Now,  this  was  not  at  all  the  confession  to  be  expected  of 
a  potential  hero.  But  so  strongly  did  the  witchery  of  the 
voice  continue  to  assert  itself,  that  Atherton  felt  more  than 
ever  attracted  to  the  speaker. 

"  I  fancied  that  was  how  you  felt,"  he  said  after  a  brief 
pause,  "  and  since  I  was  feeling  low-spirited  myself,  I  was 
more  inclined  to  sympathize  with  you.  Are  you  alone  ?" 

"  Entirely  alone.  I  have  not  even  an  acquaintance  on 
board,  and  a  little  while  ago  I  should  have  said  that  I  did 
not  desire  one." 

"  I  may  suppose,  then,  that  you  would  not  say  so  now  ?" 


86  THE    MAX   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  No.  I  am  not  sorry  to  know  you,  who,  I  think,  are 
kind  ;  but  I  shrink  from  the  thought  of  indiscriminate  ac- 
quaintance, and  I  hope  I  may  be  left  alone." 

"  There  is  not  much  difficulty  generally  in  being  left 
alone,"  observed  Atherton,  smiling  under  cover  of  the  dark- 
ness at  the  thought  of  what  an  opinion  of  his  own  impor- 
tance the  boy  must  have.  "  Unless  one  has  something  very 
remarkable  to  distinguish  one,  the  world  is,  as  a  rule,  only 
too  ready  to  leave  one  alone." 

"  That  again  is  true,"  the  other  replied  ;  "  and  I  should 
not  have  needed  to  be  reminded  of  it.  You  must  think 
me  very  foolish,  but  I — I  need  a  little  time  to  adjust  my- 
self to  a  new  situation.  I  have  never  been  alone  before, 
and  I  am  going  into  a  strange  country  with  a  responsibility 
upon  me  which  is  rather  trying." 

"  You  are  very  young  to  have  responsibility  thrown 
upon  you,"  said  Atherton,  recalling  the  words  which  had 
first  attracted  his  attention  to  the  speaker. 

"  Young  or  old,  we  must  not  shirk  our  burdens  ;  espe- 
cially if  there  is  no  one  else  to  take  them  up,"  the  other 
answered  with  a  sigh.  "  And  so,  having  many  things  to 
think  of,  I  hoped  that  no  one  on  board  would  notice  me, 
and  that  I  should  have  the  time  of  the  voyage  to  consider 
my  plans.  This  is  why  I  was  so  startled  and,  I  confess, 
annoyed  when  you  addressed  me." 

''Well,"  said  Atherton,  "I  am  glad  you  have  been  so 
frank.  Hereafter  I  promise  that  I  will  not  address  you 
unless  you  take  the  initiative  ;  and  I  do  not  think  you  have 
much  annoyance  of  the  kind  to  fear  from  the  other  pas- 
sengers. My  impression  is  that  you  will  be  left  as  much 
alone  as  you  can  possibly  desire." 

There  was  a  few  minutes'  pause.  The  motion  of  the 
vessel  had  now  very  much  increased,  and  she  was  swinging 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  87 

to  the  fast  roughening  sea  in  a  manner  calculated  to  prove 
very  trying  to  a  landsman.  The  boy  presently  observed, 
in  a  low  voice  : 

"  I  seem  to  say  nothing  but  ungracious  things,  and  yet  I 
don't  mean  them.  Perhaps  when  I  feel  better  I  shall  be 
able  to  express  myself  better.  Just  now  I — I  think  I  shall 
go  to  my  state  room.  Good-night,  and  pray  believe  that  I 
am  not  ungrateful  for  your  kindness." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke,  but  a  sudden  lurch  of  the  ship  sent 
him  reeling  back  into  his  seat. 

"  Take  care  !"  said  Atherton.  "  If  you  don't  want  to 
sustain  an  injury,  it  is  necessary  to  be  careful  on  shipboard 
until  you  get  your  sea-legs.  Where  is  your  room  ?  I'll 
help  you  to  it." 

"  Oh,  thanks  !"  said  the  other,  hastily  ;  "  but  I  think  I 
can  manage  to  reach  it  alone.  I  will  be  more  careful. " 

He  rose  again  ;  and,  this  time  keeping  his  feet  and  bal- 
ancing himself  with  the  roll  of  the  vessel,  he  passed  around 
the  cabin  and  out  of  sight.  Atherton  rose  also  ;  and 
walking  slowly  forward,  thought  : 

"  What  a  remarkable  boy  !" 


CHAPTER  III. 

ROUGH  and  boisterous  were  the  seas  which  the  New 
York  encountered  as  she  passed  Hatteras,  of  stormy  fame  ; 
and  few  were  the  passengers  who  did  not  more  or  less  suc- 
cumb to  the  dreaded  malady  which  lies  in  wait  for  those 
who  go  down  upon  the  deep  in  ships.  Atherton  was  not 
surprised  that  for  two  days  he  had  no  furl  her  glimpse  of 


88  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

the  boy  who  so  much  interested  him  ;  nor  that  when  he 
met  him  on  the  third  day  he  was  looking  very  pale,  as  he 
lay  back  in  a  deck-chair  gazing  at  the  sea,  which,  now  com- 
paratively smooth  and  brilliantly  blue,  spread  its  tossing 
waves  to  the  far  horizon.  His  appearance,  at  once  so  deli- 
cate and  so  lonely,  revived  the  sympathy  which  Atherton 
had  first  felt,  and  brought  his  steps  involuntarily  to  a  pause 
in  front  of  him. 

"  Good-morning  !"  he  said  ;  "  I  believe  it  was  agreed 
when  we  parted  that  the  initiative  in  any  further  inter- 
course should  come  from  you,  but  I  may  be  permitted  to 
inquire  how  you  are  feeling.  You  have  evidently  suffered 
from  the  rough  weather  of  the  last  two  days  ?" 

"  Very  much,"  the  boy  replied,  looking  up  with  a  smile 
at  the  tall  figure  standing  over  him.  "  I  was  very  sea- sick, 
and  I  am  still  feeling  the  effects  of  it.  I  find  that  I  am 
not  a  good  sailor  at  all.  And  you — have  you  been  well  ?" 

"Oh,  yes  !  I  am  an  old  yachtsman,  used  to  the  rough- 
est tumbling  Neptune  can  give.  You  needn't  fancy  your- 
self a  bad  sailor,  however,  because  you  have  felt  the  weather 
of  the  past  two  days.  It  has  been  uncommonly  nasty." 

"  Yes  ;  but  to-day  makes  amends.  Is  it  not  glorious  ? 
This  is,  indeed,  Byron's  '  deep  and  dark-blue  ocean.'  " 

' '  So  you  know  '  Childe  Harold '  !"  said  Atherton, 
drawing  forward  another  chair  and  dropping  into  it. 
"  That  is  a  little  uncommon  with  the  youth  of  the  present 
day.  Which  is  a  pity.  For  the  morbidness  of  that  inter- 
esting exile  was  healthfulness  itself  compared  to  the  mor- 
bidness of  fin  de  si&cle  verse-makers  ;  and  the  poetry  is 
magnificent." 

"  It  seems  so  to  me,"  said  the  boy.  "  As  I  have  sat 
here  watching  the  waves  in  their  long,  ceaseless  rolling, 
those  lines  ran  constantly  in  my  mind  : 


THE    MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  89 

"  '  Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark-blue  ocean — roll  1 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain  ; 
Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin — his  control 
Stops  with  the  shore  :  upon  the  watery  plain 
The  wrecks  are  all  thy  deed  ;  nor  doth  remain 
A  shadow  of  man's  ravage,  save  his  own, 
When  for  a  moment,  like  a  drop  of  rain, 
He  sinks  into  thy  depths  with  bubbling  groan. 
Without  a  grave,  unknell'd,  uncoffin'd,  and  unknown.'  " 

Familiar  as  the  stanza  was  to  Atherton,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  never  heard  it  before,  so  much  did  the  noble 
measure  gain  from  the  music  of  the  tones  which  uttered  it. 
Gazing  out  over  that  majestic  expanse  of  waters,  which 
since  the  birth  of  time  has  never  been  wholly  stilled,  the 
speaker,  as  if  he  forgot  his  listener  and  only  gratified  him- 
self by  uttering  aloud  the  lines  which  haunted  him,  recited 
them  with  a  melody  of  intonation,  a  depth  and  perfection 
of  expression,  which  justified  Ather ton's  exclamation  : 

"  What  a  voice  you  have  '  Where  did  you  learn  to  re- 
cite like  that  ?" 

The  boy  turned  his  face  towards  him  with  a  surprised 
look. 

"  Was  it  at  all  extraordinary  ?"  he  asked.  "  I  only  spoke 
as  I  felt.  The  music  of  the  verses  seemed  the  only  fit  ex- 
pression for  the  feeling  which  the  sea  excites." 

' '  I  should  have  said  that  only  a  poet  or  an  actor  could 
have  spoken  them  as  you  did,"  Atherton  replied  ;  "  while 
few  poets  and  not  a  great  many  actors  possess  such  a  voice. 
You  are  really  a  very  astonishing  boy.  If  I  might  hazard 
a  guess,  you  have  been  brought  up  by  a  woman,  and  a 
woman  of  singular  intelligence  and  refinement." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  quiet  reply  ;  "  my  mother  is  all  that." 

"  And  you  are  perhaps  the  only  boy  in  a  family  of 
girls?" 


90  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  Eight  again" — and  now  for  the  first  time  Atherton 
heard  him  utter  a  low,  musical  laugh.  "  I  have  three  sis- 
ters, but  I  am  the  only  man  of  the  family." 

"  That  accounts  for  your  feminine  ways,  and  also  for  the 
fact  that  you  seem  to  look  at  things  in  general  in  a  manner 
rather  unlike  what  one  wpuld  expect  in  a  boy." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  that  I  am  a — milksop  ?"  asked 
the  boy  anxiously. 

It  was  Atherton's  turn  to  laugh. 

"  Oh,  no  !"  he  answered.  "  If  I  had  thought  that  I 
should  not  have  mentioned  the  feminine  ways.  It  is  the 
bravest  men  who  sometimes  have  most  of  the  woman  in  them  ; 
and  refined  natures  often  dare  more  than  coarse  ones,  because 
they  can  feel  the  incentive  of  a  higher  motive.  Indeed, 
I  should  not  be  surprised" — he  spoke  deliberately — "  if  you 
proved  a  hero." 

As  he  had  anticipated,  the  last  word  made  his  companion 
start.  He  turned  around  in  his  chair,  and  his  face  was 
quite  pale  as  he  asked  : 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Why  do  you  say  that  ?" 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,"  Atherton  answered,  "  because 
I  have  already  heard  heroism  attributed  to  you.  Don't 
look  so  startled.  It  was  only  by  the  lady  who  bade  you 
good-by  on  board  the  day  we  left.  I  was  standing  close 
beside  you,  and  I  could  not  avoid  hearing  her  say  that  she 
wished  you  '  the  success  your  heroism  deserved.'  That 
first  drew  my  attention  to  you.  One  does  not  sail  with  a 
hero  every  day,  you  know." 

There  was  a  short  interval  of  silence,  and  then  : 

"  My  cousin — for  the  lady  you  mention  was  my  cousin — 
spoke  extravagantly,"  said  the  boy.  "  It  seemed  to  her 
heroic  that  I  should  undertake  this  voyage,  and — and  also 
some  matters  at  the  end  of  it.  But  there  is  really  nothing 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  91 

heroic  in  it  at  all.  There  was  nobody  but  me  to  go.  As  I 
have  said,  I  am  the  only  man  of  the  family." 

If  Atherton  thought  the  family  not  very  well  provided 
which  had  only  this  man  to  depend  upon,  he  was  far  from 
uttering  the  thought  to  one  for  whom  he  felt  a  deepening 
attraction. 

"  I  should  like,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  to  know  your 
name." 

"  My  name" — the  other  hesitated  for  a  moment — "  is 
Henri  de  Marsillac." 

"  Quite  a  fitting  name  for  a  hero,"  said  Atherton.  "  It 
sounds  romantic  enough  to  suggest  all  manner  of  heroic 
adventures." 

"  It  was  the  name  of  my  great-great-grandfather/'  was 
the  quiet  reply  ;  "  but  I  never  heard  that  he  had  any  spe- 
cially romantic  or  heroic  adventures,  although  he  died  tragi- 
cally enough.  He  was  a  planter  in  the  French  colony  of 
Santo  Domingo,  and  was  killed  in  the  insurrection  of  the 
slaves." 

"  Then  you  have  a  connection,  and  a  very  close  one, 
with  the  island  you  are  about  to  visit." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  other,  and  then  paused.  He  was 
evidently  not  to  be  drawn  into  any  personal  details  ;  and 
Atherton,  whose  interest  in  him  was  different  from  the 
curiosity  which  desires  to  know  such  details  simply  for  the 
sake  of  knowing  them,  saw  this,  and  changed  the  subject. 

"  What  a  history  that  island  has  had  !"  he  said  musing- 
ly. "  The  cradle  of  the  New  World  ;  the  Hispaniola  of 
Columbus  ;  the  disputed  battle-ground  for  centuries  of 
Spaniards,  French,  and  English  ;  ravaged  by  buccaneers, 
baptized  in  blood  ;  swept  a  hundred  times  by  fire  and 
sword  ;  the  theatre  of  constant  warfare,  culminating  at  last 
in  massacre  without  a  parallel,  and  in  its  fairest  portion 


92  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

being  abandoned  into  the  hands  of  African  savages.  Yet 
it  still  remains  as  fair,  as  productive,  and  as  undeveloped  as 
when  the  keels  of  the  caravels  first  cut  its  shining  waters, 
and  the  eyes  of  the  immortal  discoverer  first  rested  upon 
the  beauty  of  its  heights." 

"  You  are  familiar  with  it?"  asked  the  boy,  looking  at 
him  a  little  curiously  as  he  lay  back  in  his  chair  gazing  out 
over  the  blue,  flashing  surges  ;  as  if  in  fancy  he  saw  the 
caravels  before  him,  and  the  figure  of  the  heroic  admiral 
standing  in  the  prow  of  his  flag-ship,  searching  with  eager 
eyes  for  the  desired  land. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  never  seen  it ;  but  I  have 
lately  been  reading  much  about  it,  and  what  I  have  read 
has  fired  my  fancy  exceedingly.  I  really  think  I  shall  en- 
joy a  sojourn  which  at  first  wore  only  the  aspect  of  a  dis- 
agreeable exile." 

"  Is  it  to  the  Spanish  part  of  the  island  you  are  going  ?" 
the  boy  asked,  after  some  hesitation. 

"  My  immediate  destination  is  Santo  Domingo  city,  the 
capital  of  the  Spanish  part  of  the  island,"  Atherton  re- 
plied. "  My  further  destination  is  a  certain  sugar  estate, 
into  the  affairs  and  management  of  which  I  have  a  commis- 
sion to  inquire.  I  should  like  to  take  you  along  with  me," 
he  added,  with  a  smile.  "  Since  you  come  from  Louisiana, 
you  ought  to  know  something  about  sugar,  while  I  know 
absolutely  nothing." 

"  I  know  a  great  deal  about  sugar,"  the  other  answered 
simply.  "  At  home  I  manage  a  sugar  estate." 

"  You  !" 

"  I.     Why  not  ?" 

"  Well,  really  there  is  no  reason  why  not,  except  that 
you  look  rather  young  for  such  responsibility,"  Athertou 
replied.  "  Suppose,  then,  that  you  continue  your  journey 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  93 

with  me  to  the  sugar  estate  and  give  me  the  benefit  of  your 
knowledge  ?" 

"  I  leave  the  ship  at  the  Cape/'  was  the  serious  reply. 
"  My  business  is  in  Hayti." 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  business  which  will  take  you  into  the 
interior  of  the  country  ;  for  by  all  accounts  it  is  not  safe 
there." 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Plainly  he  had  no 
intention  of  being  expansive  on  the  subject  of  his  business. 

"  One  cannot  stop  to  think  of  risks,"  he  said  ;  then  add- 
ed :  "If  you  know  nothing  of  the  raising  or  making  of 
sugar,  why  do  you  undertake  to  examine  the  affairs  of  a 
sugar  estate  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Atherton,  "  one  of  those  unfortunates 
who,  being  under  sentence -of  death,  have  a  partial  reprieve 
given  them  by  the  judges  whom  we  call  doctors,  in  the  form 
of  an  order  to  go  and  live  in  a  warm  climate.  Hence  I  am 
going  to  the  West  Indies  ;  and  my  choice  of  Santo  Domin- 
go is  determined  by  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  the  sugar 
estate,  which,  ignorant  as  I  am  of  sugar  affairs,  affords  me 
at  least  the  shadow  of  an  interest  and  an  occupation — of 
both  of  which  I  am  greatly  in  need." 

The  boy  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  quick  com- 
passion in  his  face. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?"  he  asked.  "  Do  you  mean  that 
you  are  under  sentence  of  death  in — in  any  immediate 
sense  ?" 

"  Sometimes  I  think  that  it  is  in  a  very  immediate  sense. 
Then  again  I  listen  to  the  voice  of  Hope  speaking  through  the 
doctors,  and  telling  me  that  if  I  live  for  two  years  in  a  warm 
climate  I  shall  be  cured,  or  at  least  reprieved  for  an  indefi- 
nite length  of  time.  Left  to  myself,  I  should  not  have  lis- 
tened to  them  ;  I  should  have  positively  refused  the  rdle  of 


94  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

an  invalid  health-seeker  and  preferred  to  make  shorter  work 
of  dying.  But  I  have  a  father,  who  is  not  only  devoted  to 
me,  but  of  whom  I  am  the  only  child.  It  is  for  his  sake 
that  I  have  followed  the  advice  of  the  medical  gentlemen 
and  that  I  am  here." 

"  You  were  right,"  said  the  boy,  with  an  air  of  decision 
that  sat  strangely  upon  his  youthfulness.  "  Even  if  you 
had  believed  there  was  no  possible  good  in  it,  you  should 
have  consented  for  the  sake  of  your  father.  But  there 
must  be  good  in  it.  You  have  no  look  of  an  invalid. " 

"  I  sincerely  hope  not,"  replied  Atherton.  "  But  this 
enforced  exile  is  hard  on  my  father  too.  He  will  miss  me 
very  much." 

"  He  would  miss  you  still  more  if  you  obstinately  stayed 
at  home  and  died,"  rejoined  the  other.  "  Does  he  live  in 
New  York  ?" 

"  My  father  ?  He  may  be  said  to  live  everywhere.  His 
business  extends  from  San  Francisco  to  New  York,  and  he 
has  headquarters  in  both  cities.  If  you  -read  newspapers 
much  you  have  probably  seen  his  name  now  and  then.  It 
is  George  Atherton." 

"  I  think  I  have  seen  it.  He  is  what  is  called  a  railroad 
and  bonanza  king,  isn't  he  ?" 

"  Some  such  foolish  term  is  sometimes  applied  to  him. 
He  is  simply  a  man  who  has  large  interests  in  railroads  and 
mines,  and  has  made  a  great  deal  of  money  out  of  both.  I 
am  rather  proud  of  my  father.  He  is  of  sturdy  English 
stock,  and  was  hardly  more  than  a  boy  when  he  came  out 
from  the  old  country  and  went  to  California,  in  what  are 
known  as  'the  flush  times.'  Without  any  advantages  of 
capital  or  friends,  by  sheer  pluck  and  intelligence,  and  per- 
haps some  luck — one  must  give  fortune  its  due — he  suc- 
ceeded from  the  first.  He  was  rather  advanced  in  life 


THE  MAX   OF  THE   FAMILY.  95 

when  he  married  my  mother — who,  now,  that  I  think  of 
it,  was  a  countrywoman  of  yours  :  at  least  her  people  came 
from  New  Orleans— and  after  her  early  death  he  never 
married  again.  From  that  time  he  has  lived  for  only  two 
things — business  and  me.  Determined  to  equip  me  for  the 
race  of  life  with  every  advantage,  he  sent  me  abroad  to  an 
English,  then  to  a  German,  university  ;  and  when  I  came 
back  no  one  could  have  been  more  delighted  than  he  that  I 
had  no  will,  because  he  is  so  rich  a  man,  to  be  an  idler. 
And  indeed  I  am  too  much  his  son  for  idling  to  be  to  my 
taste.  I  threw  all  my  energy,  all  my  ambition  into  my 
work  ;  and  all  that  I  desired  was  opening  before  me — when 
the  blow  fell.  '  Drop  everything  ;  go  away  for  two  years  ! ' 
The  doctors  said  it  glibly,  but  it  was  worse  than  a  death- 
sentence  to  me.  It  was  a  sentence  to  a  death-in-life,  which 
I  had  always  dreaded  more  than  death  itself." 

The  speaker  paused,  his  voice  dropping  at  the  last  words, 
as  he  gazed  from  under  the  rim  of  his  cap  straight  out  over 
the  boundless  leagues  of  shimmering  water.  He  had  for  a 
moment  forgotten  the  companion  to  whom  he  had  been 
speaking,  in  the  sudden  wave  of  bitterness  roused  by  the 
thought  of  his  enforced  exile,  of  his  thwarted  ambition  ; 
and  it  was  a  sigh  breathed  by  that  companion  which  made 
him  glance  around.  He  never  forgot  the  look  of  exquisite 
pity  and  sympathy  which  was  shining  upon  him  from  the 
beautiful  hazel  eyes. 

"  How  sorry  I  am  for  you  !"  the  boy  exclaimed.  "  Do 
you  mind  my  saying  that  ?  I  know  that  there  are  people 
who  do  not  like  to  be  pitied.  But  it  seems  so  hard— to 
have  everything  that  life  can  give,  and  to  be  obliged  to 
drop  it  all  and  go  away,  with  such  a  fear  in  your  thoughts. 
Oh,  how  many  different  kinds  of  trouble  there  are  in  the 
world  !" 


96  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  Very  many,  indeed,"  said  Atherton.  "  But  although 
I  am  not  one  of  the  people  who  object  to  being  pitied,  I 
must  not  take  your  pity  under  false  pretences — at  least  not 
too  much  of  it.  When  I  am  despondent  I  think  of  falling 
into  lifelong  invalidism,  if  I  live  at  all.  But  at  other 
times  I  believe  that  I  shall  get  well,  and  that  the  two  years 
I  shall  lose  will  be  all.  I  have  determined  to  live  for  that 
time  the  life  of  Nature — to  exist  as  much  as  possible  like 
an  animal  in  the  open  air — and  I  think  Nature  will  cure 
me.  I  have  solemnly  thrown  physic  to  the  dogs." 

"  Which  is  good,"  said  the  boy,  smiling.  "  I  believe 
that  Nature  will  cure  you,  as  this  delicious  sea-air  has  cured 
my  sea-sickness.  For  there  is  the  luncheon  bell,  and  I 
really  feel  as  if  I  can  once  more  face  the  table." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WITHIN  the  next  few  days  the  friendly  intimacy  of  the 
two  travellers  advanced  apace.  They  were  almost  constant 
companions,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  companionship 
on  the  part  of  either.  Sitting  for  hours  on  deck,  their 
chairs  drawn  together,  each  with  a  book  which  neither 
read  very  much,  they  sometimes  talked,  their  talk  wander- 
ing over  many  wide  and  various  fields  ;  or  lay  back  dream- 
ily, drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  marvellous,  restless  plain 
of  flashing  waters,  which  deepened  in  tint  with  every  on- 
ward league  toward  the  tropics,  until  at  last  it  became  an 
unimaginable  expanse  of  lapis-lazuli,  dazzling,  sparkling, 
impossible  to  describe,  filling  the  wide  sea-circle  with  the 
long  liftings  of  its  gentle  swell,  fanned  by  the  warm  breath 
of  the  trade  winds. 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  97 

Most  of  the  passengers  fancied  that  they  were  relatives, 
or  at  least  travelling  companions — the  tall,  fair,  languid 
man  and  the  dark,  delicate,  picturesque  boy  ;  but  there 
was  no  opportunity  to  put  these  conjectures  to  the  proof 
by  questioning.  The  genial,  talkative  Germans  ;  the  young 
engineers,  who  bloomed  out  in  white  duck  suits  as  soon  as 
the  weather  gave  the  least  encouragement ;  and  the  inquisi- 
tive tourists  or  possible  investors,  with  strong  nasal  voices 
which  had  a  penetrating  quality  that  carried  their  sound 
from  one  end  of  the  deck  to  the  other — all  passed  them  by 
as  hopelessly  "unsociable;"  while  the  feminine  contin- 
gent, remarking  among  themselves  that  they  looked  "  in- 
teresting," had  no  chance  to  determine  whether  this  inter- 
est existed  in  more  than  appearance. 

"  The  captain  says  that  we  shall  be  at  Turk's  Island  to- 
morrow morning,"  said  Atherton,  as  he  dropped  into  his 
chair  beside  De  Marsillac  on  the  sixth  day  of  the  voyage — 
a  day  like  a  flawless  jewel  in  its  splendor.  The  voyage  had 
now  become  a  kind  of  lotus-eating.  The  long  lift  of  the 
waves,  the  warm  caress  of  the  wind,  the  soft  whispering  of 
the  sea,  all  lulled  to  repose  :  a  quietude  made  for  dreams. 
And  such  dreams  were  in  the  eyes  of  the  boy  who  looked 
now  with  a  start  from  the  entrancing  azure  of  sea  and  sky 
to  the  face  of  the  speaker. 

"Shall  we?"  he  asked,  adding  involuntarily:  "  I  am 
sorry." 

"  Are  you  ?    Why  ?" 

"  Because  the  ocean  grows  more  beautiful  every  day,  and 
the  voyage  more  pleasant.  Also  because,  if  we  are  to  be  at 
Turk's  Island  to-morrow,  we  shall  reach  the  Cape  the  day 
after." 

"  And  you  regret  that  ?  Most  persons  are  glad  to  reach 
their  destination." 


98  THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

The  other  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  looked  back 
at  the  flashing  blue  plain,  which  spread  its  billowy  leagues 
to  the  farthest  verge  of  the  horizon  ;  and  Atherton  ob- 
served that  a  shadow  seemed  to  fall  over  the  sensitive  face. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  so  brave  as  I  have  fancied,"  he 
said  presently,  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  find  myself  shrinking 
from  the  unknown  and  the  difficult,  now  that  they  are 
close  at  hand." 

It  was  then  Atherton's  turn  to  be  silent  for  a  moment — 
a  moment  in  which  he  reflected  again,  as  he  had  reflected 
before,  how  strangely  reserved  as  well  as  how  strangely  at- 
tractive was  this  remarkable  boy.  Close  as  had  been  their 
association  for  several  days — that  association  of  shipboard 
which  with  most  people  has  the  effect  of  immediately  un- 
loosening the  tongue  upon  all  their  private  affairs— he  had 
let  drop  no  word  to  indicate  the  nature  of  the  business 
which  was  taking  him  to  a  place  so  remote  as  Hayti.  On 
the  contrary,  he  bad  carefully  avoided  anything  which 
might  lead  to  the  subject,  and  his  present  expression  of 
shrinking  reluctance  was  the  first  indication  either  of  the 
nature  of  his  mysterious  errand  or  the  feelings  with  which 
he  regarded  it.  Slight  as  it  was,  however,  it  was  quite 
enough  to  excite  Atherton's  concern,  already  vaguely 
stirred. 

"  Would  you  object,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  to  telling  me 
the  nature  of  the  business  upon  which  you  are  bound  ?  I 
think  you  must  be  aware  that  I  do  not  ask  the  ques- 
tion from  idle  curiosity  or  any  desire  to  pry  into  your 
affairs.  But  I  really  fear  that  you  may  have  in  view  some- 
thing rash,  if  not  dangerous  ;  and,  being  so  much  older 
than  you  are,  I  feel  that  I  might  give  you  the  benefit  of  my 
experience  of  the  world  in  the  form  of  advice." 

Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  De  Marsillac  looked  at  him 


THE    MAH   OF   THE   FAMILY.  99 

with  a  grateful  expression  in  the  frank,  clear  eyes  he  had 
come  to  know  so  well. 

"It  is  kind  of  you  to  speak  in  this  manner/'  he  an- 
swered. "  I  have  thought  of  asking  your  advice  on  some 
practical  points  before  we  part ;  for  I  am  sure  you  are  to 
be  trusted." 

"  I  think  that  I  am,"  said  Atherton,  smiling.  "  At 
least  I  cannot  imagine  the  temptation  which  would  induce 
me  to  betray  your  trust.  I  am  right,  then  :  you  are  going 
upon  some  rash  enterprise  ?" 

"  I  suppose  you  will  think  it  so.  I  am  going" — he  sent 
a  quick  glance  around  to  bo  sure  that  no  one  was  within 
earshot — "  to  seek  some  money  which  my  great-great- 
grandfather— he  of  whom  I  told  you,  who  was  killed  by  the 
insurgent  slaves — buried  before  he  left  his  home." 

"  Good  Heavens  !"  exclaimed  Atherton,  startled.  "  Do 
you  really  mean  it  ?  This  is  worse  than  1  feared — a  more 
rash  and  dangerous  enterprise.  My  dear  boy,  the  thing  is 
impossible  !  How  could  you  have  dreamed  of  attempting 
it — you,  alone  ?" 

"  Because,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  there  was  no  one 
else  to  attempt  it,"  the  boy  answered  quietly.  "  It  was 
for  me  to  go,  or  for  that  money  to  remain  hopelessly  lost 
where  Henri  de  Marsillac  placed  it  a  century  ago." 

"  Men  will  risk  a  great  deal  for  money/'  said  Atherton, 
gravely  ;  "  but  I  confess  I  am  surprised  that  one  so  young 
as  you  should  be  willing  to  undertake  so  much  for  it  ;  un- 
less, indeed,  it  is  the  romance  of  the  thing  that  has  at- 
tracted you.  A  boy's  imagination  is  easily  fired  by  a  sug- 
gestion of  hidden  treasure." 

The  face  of  the  particular  boy  in  question  suddenly  grew 
cold,  as  if  he  withdrew  within  himself  ;  and  his  voice  had 
a  plainly  offended  accent  when  he  spoke  : 


100  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  this  money  as  a  treasure,  but 
simply  as  a  sum  deposited  by  its  owner — does  it  matter 
whether  in  a  bank  or  in  the  earth  ? — for  the  benefit  of 
his  rightful  heirs.  There  is  no  romance  in  the  search  for  it 
which  I  have  undertaken  ;  and  if  you  think  me  mercenary 
because  I  am  willing  to  run  all  risks  to  obtain  it,  I  can 
only  say  that  it  is  easy  to  despise  money  when  one  pos- 
sesses it." 

With  the  last  words  he  rose  and  walked  away. 

Atherton  was  so  much  astonished  by  this  abrupt  depar- 
ture, and  by  the  equally  abrupt  end  of  his  confidence  which 
it  intimated,  that  he  sat  quite  still  and  silent,  staring  after 
the  young  figure  which  walked  down  the  deck  and  disap- 
peared into  the  cabin.  Then  a  pang  of  self-reproach  seized 
him.  He  had  repelled  the  boy's  confidence — that  confidence 
so  tardily,  yet  at  last  so  readily  given — and  had  wounded 
his  feelings  besides.  What  a  mistake  to  speak  as  he  had 
done,  if  he  indeed  desired  to  influence  the  lad  !  Nothing, 
he  now  perceived,  could  have  been  better  calculated  to 
offend  than  the  imputation  of  a  mercenary  motive  in  the 
first  instance,  and  of  a  romantic  imagination  in  the  second. 

"  One  is  very  much  of  a  fool  sometimes,"  he  remarked 
meditatively  to  himself.  "  I  should  have  remembered  the 
susceptibility  of  a  youthful  spirit.  And,  apart  from  the 
unwisdom  of  uttering  them,  my  remarks  were  foolish  in 
themselves.  For  whether  it  is  merely  a  desire  for  money 
— which,  as  he  observed,  it  is  no  doubt  easier  to  despise 
when  one  possesses  than  when  one  lacks  it — or  whether  in 
reality  his  imagination  has  been  fired  by  romantic  dreams 
of  buried  treasure,  one  thing  is  at  least  certain  :  he  has  the 
courage  of  a  paladin  in  that  delicate  frame  of  his,  and  he 
will  risk  his  life  in  this  wild  search  unless  some  one  inter- 
feres. Now,  I  am  the  only  person  who  can  interfere  ;  for 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  101 

I  am  the  only  person  he  is  at  all  likely  to  admit  into  his 
confidence.  So  it  behooves  me  to  apologize  at  once,  and 
endeavor  to  retrieve  the  mistake  I  have  committed." 

But,  like  many  a  man  before,  Athertoii  was  to  discover 
that  it  is  easier  to  commit  a  mistake  than  to  retrieve  it. 
For  one  thing,  repentance  is  not  always  accepted  ;  and  for 
another,  opportunity  for  apology  may  not  be  given.  When 
he  went  into  luncheon  he  found  the  chair  on  his  right 
vacant,  and  vacant  it  remained  throughout  the  meal.  Its 
emptiness  increased  his  regret  ;  and  on  his  return  to  the 
deck  he  paused  beside  a  closed  window  which  he  knew  to 
be  that  of  De  Marsillac's  state-room,  and  lightly  knocked. 

"  Who  is  there  ?"  asked  a  quick,  startled  voice  within. 

"  It  is  I — Atherton,"  he  replied.  "  Come  out  on  deck. 
The  day  is  too  divine  to  lose  an  hour  of  it,  and  I  have 
much  to  say  to  you." 

"  I  cannot  come,"  the  voice  responded.  "  I— I  have  a 
headache.  I  am  lying  down." 

"  Shall  I  come  in  and  talk  to  you  a  little  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no — thanks  !  When  I  have  a  headache  I  must 
be  quiet — and  alone." 

"  Well,"  in  a  disappointed  tone,  "  in  that  case  I  will  not 
trouble  you  ;  but  I  hope  you'll  feel  better  after  awhile_and 
come  out." 

An  inarticulate  murmur  answered  him,  but  a  murmur 
which  evidently  contained  no  promise  of  coming  out ;  and, 
after  waiting  a  few  moments  longer,  he  quietly  walked 
away. 

"  Odd,"  he  thought,  as  he  settled  himself  in  his  chair 
with  a  cigar,  "  how  much  that  boy's  voice  is  like  a  woman's. 
Any  one  who  did  not  know  the  contrary  would  have  sworn 
that  there  was  a  woman  behind  that  blind.  And  there  was 
a  suggestion  of  tears  in  the  voice  too.  I  wonder  if  he  could 


102  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

have  taken  my  words  to  heart  to  that  extent  ?  It  seems 
incredible,  and  yet — he  is  a  queer  boy  !  I  must  manage 
to  make  matters  up  with  him  at  all  costs  before  we  reach 
the  Cape." 

De  Marsillac's  headache  allowed  him  to  appear  at  dinner, 
but  he  was  very  silent ;  and  when  afterwards  Atherton  and 
himself  went  on  deck,  where  day  had  given  place  to  night 
with  tropical  rapidity,  an  air  of  reserve  still  hung  about 
him,  which  made  it  a  little  difficult  to  return  to  the  subject 
of  the  morning.  When  they  were  again  established  in  their 
respective  chairs  on  the  after-deck,  however,  Atherton  de- 
termined that  the  interrupted  confidence  should  be  resumed, 
and  at  once  led  the  conversation  in  that  direction. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  began,  "  that  you  thought  me  un- 
sympathetic this  morning  when  you  told  me  the  nature  of 
your  business  in  Hayti.  But  you  were  a  little  hasty  in  that 
conclusion.  I  was  in  reality  deeply  concerned — I  may  say 
shocked— to  find  that  you  had  such  a  project  in  view,  and  it 
was  the  expression  of  this  feeling  which  you  misunderstood." 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  the  boy  replied  somewhat  coldly. 
"  There  was  no  reason  why  I  should  have  expected  sympa- 
thy from  you.  One  should  not  talk  of  one's  private  affairs 
to  strangers.  The  mistake  was  mine." 

"  The  mistake  is  yours  now,"  said  Athertou,  with  some 
energy.  "  If  I  seemed  unsympathetic  to  your  confidence 
this  morning,  you  are  now  repulsing  a  very  sincere  interest 
— or  attempting  to  do  so.  But  I  have  no  intention  of 
allowing  it  to  be  repulsed.  I  apologize  for  anything  which 
I  may  have  said  inadvertently  to  offend  you,  and  acknowl- 
edge that  I  was  foolish  to  attempt  to  criticise  motives  of 
which  I  knew  nothing." 

There  was  a  silence.  De  Marsillac  did  not  answer  at 
once,  but  kept  his  face  turned  from  his  companion  towards 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  103 

the  vast  beauty  of  the  night,  throbbing  with  the  deep 
pulsations  of  the  ocean,  and  the  radiant  glory  of  myriad 
stars  shining  out  of  the  great  arch  of  purple  heaven  above. 
Caressing  winds  breathed  about  the  ship  as  she  sped  on- 
ward ;  while  the  low  murmur  of  the  seas  through  which 
she  cut  her  way  was  like  the  whispering  of  soft  voices — an 
infinitely  lulling  sound.  The  spell  of  the  night  seemed  to 
lie  over  the  wide  world  of  waters,  hushing  them  to  a  deeper 
repose  than  that  which  they  had  known  by  day,  and  per- 
haps penetrating  also  into  the  spirit  of  the  boy.  At  least, 
when  he  spoke  at  last  it  was  in  an  altered  and  gentler  voice. 

"  If  I  was  a  little  wounded  by  your  criticism,  it  was  be- 
cause you  seemed  to  believe  that  I  was  either  actuated  by  a 
love  of  money  or  by  a  foolish  romance  in  undertaking  to 
recover  what  my  great- great-grandfather  endeavored  to 
secure  from  robbery  for  his  descendants.  But  I  fail  to 
perceive  what  there  is  in  my  enterprise  which  should  make 
either  of  these  motives  appear  to  you  a  matter  of  course. 
Even  if  I  had  no  special  need  of  this  money,  would  I  not 
be  very  foolish  if  I  made  no  effort  to  recover  it  ?  You  are, 
it  seems,  a  very  wealthy  man,  Mr.  Atherton  ;  but  if  you 
heard  of  such  a  deposit,  to  which  you  had  an  undoubted 
and  lawful  right,  would  you  not  make  an  effort  to  ob- 
tain it  ?" 

"  That  would  depend,  I  think,  upon  the  probabilities  of 
the  case,"  Atherton  answered.  "  I  should  need  to  be 
very  certain  in  the  first  place  that  the  deposit  in  question 
existed " 

"  I  am  certain.  Presently,  if  you  care  to  hear,  I  will 
tell  you  why." 

"  Then  I  should  desire  to  be  assured  of  at  least  a  fair 
probability  of  success  in  my  efforts  to  recover  it.  Now,  my 
dear  boy,  what  probability  is  there  of  your  success  ?  Have 


104  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

you  thought  of  all  the  practical  difficulties  surrounding 
your  task  ?" 

The  other  uttered  a  low,  rather  sad  laugh,  as  he  re- 
peated : 

"  Have  I  thought  of  them  !  I  have  thought  of  little  else 
since  I  first  learned  of  this  thing.  They  are  great,  I  ad- 
mit ;  but  have  you  ever  heard  of  any  other  way  of  over- 
coming difficulties  than  by  meeting  them  ?" 

"  There  is  no  other  way,"  Atherton  agreed.  "  But  they 
must  be  met  with  prudence  as  well  as  with  courage  in 
order  to  overcome  them.  Yet  here  you  are  alone,  going 
to  seek  money  which  your  ancestor  buried  a  hundred  years 
ago  in  an  island  which  has  been  ever  since  in  the  hands  of 
the  negroes  whose  revolt  made  the  concealment  necessary. 
Do  you  suppose  they  would  allow  you  to  carry  away  any 
treasure  found  in  the  country,  however  clear  your  right  to 
it  might  be  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  suppose  so,  and  therefore  I  know  it  is 
necessary  that  the  search  should  be  made  secretly." 

"  And  how  do  you  propose  to  do  this  ?  Have  you  friends 
on  the  island  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  I  have  only  myself  to  rely  upon  ;  yet, 
nevertheless,  I  believe  that  I  shall  succeed.  If  my  motive 
were  either  the  mercenary  or  the  romantic  one  with  which 
you  credit  me " 

"  Do  not  say  that  I  I  have  retracted  my  hasty  opinion 
— for  judgment  it  was  not — and  I  am  sure  that  your  mo- 
tive is  worthy  of  the  courage  which  supports  it." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  any  one  could  have  a  better,"  said 
the  boy  in  a  low  tone.  "But  what  I  was  about  to  say  is 
this — that,  were  my  motive  no  higher  than  those  of  which 
you  spoke,  I  might,  in  the  face  of  the  great  difficulties 
which  confront  me,  believe  success  impossible  and  my  efforts 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  105 

foredoomed  to  failure  ;  but  since  it  is  a  motive  which 
makes  me  feel,  like  Sir  Galahad,  that 

"  '  My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten,' 

I  firmly  believe  that  I  shall  succeed.  I  believe  that  as  I 
found  at  a  moment  of  supreme  necessity  the  paper,  hidden 
for  a  hundred  years,  which  told  of  this  treasure,  if  you  care 
to  call  it  so,  I  shall  also  find  at  my  need  the  means  to  carry 
out  my  undertaking.  It  sounds  fanciful,  superstitious  per- 
haps ;  and  yet  it  is  surely  neither  fanciful  nor  superstitious 
to  believe  that  God  helps  those  who  have  faith  in  Him, 
and  who  earnestly  ask  His  aid." 

Again  what  haunting  music  in  the  tones  which  uttered 
these  words,  as  the  speaker  looked  out  over  the  cradling, 
whispering  waters  of  the  mysterious,  encompassing  sea  ! 
The  strange  magic  of  the  voice  touched  and  stirred  Ather- 
ton  in  a  manner  he  could  not  understand.  There  seemed 
in  it  a  suggestion  of  all  things  noble,  generous  and  tender. 
He  thought  of  the  mother  and  sisters  of  this  lad  who  had 
set  forth,  like  a  knight-errant  indeed,  with  resolve  so  high 
and  hope  so  dauntless,  upon  a  quest  so  difficult.  The 
cousin  had  been  right  who  had  prayed  he  might  have  the 
success  his  heroism  deserved.  It  was  heroism,  no  less  ; 
and  if  it  was  also  folly — well,  heroism  is  often  but  a  touch 
removed  from  that  which  the  cold  and  prudent  of  the  world 
call  by  the  other  name.  This  Atherton  knew  well  ;  but, 
even  while  he  recognized  the  possible  folly,  his  heart  thrilled 
to  the  heroic  spirit.  He  suddenly  extended  his  hand,  and 
laid  a  light,  firm  touch  on  the  other's  arm. 

"  I  think  it  neither  fanciful  nor  superstitious  to  believe 
that  you  will  find  the  means  to  carry  out  your  undertak- 
ing," he  said.  "  We  must  give  the  matter  careful  consid- 
eration in  the  time  remaining  before  you  reach  the  Cape, 


106  THE   MAH   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

and  form  the  outline  of  some  plan  which  on  landing  you 
can  endeavor  to  carry  into  effect  with  what  modification 
circumstances  demand." 


CHAPTEK   V. 

WAKING  next  morning  to  find  themselves  anchored  off 
a  low,  white,  palm-dotted  coast,  around  which  the  waves 
were  flashing  over  hidden  reefs  ;  with  a  brilliant  clear- 
ness in  the  atmosphere,  an  ardent  warmth  in  the  sunshine, 
and  a  deeper  blue,  if  possible,  upon  the  wide  expanse  of 
ocean,  the  passengers  of  the  New  York  were  assured  of 
being  at  last  well  within  the  tropics. .  It  was  the  island  of 
Grand  Turk  which  lay  before  them — a  line  of  foliage-em- 
bowered houses  fringing  its  beach,  and  in  the  interior  a 
ridge  of  barren-looking  hills.  The  accommodation-ladder 
was  let  down  the  side  of  the  ship  ;  boats  from  the  shore  lay 
around  the  foot  of  it  waiting  for  passengers,  and  various 
parties  for  going  ashore  were  formed  as  soon  as  breakfast 
was  over. 

"  Shall  we  go,  Henri?"  asked  Atherton,  turning  to  the 
boy  whom  he  had  begun  to  address  familiarly  in  this  fash- 
ion. "  Turk's  Island  does  not  probably  offer  anything  of 
a  very  interesting  nature  to  sightseers,  but  we  can  at  least 
stretch  our  legs  on  land  and  vary  a  little  the  monotony  of 
a  day  which  I  believe  is  to  be  spent  lying  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  we  should  certainly  go  !"  the  other  re- 
plied, with  an  inflection  of  young  eagerness  in  his  voice. 

"  Come,  then,"  said  Atherton,  casting  a  critical  eye  over 
the  boats,  and  motioning  to  the  oarsmen  of  one  which 
looked  particularly  smart  and  clean  in  a  coat  of  white  and 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  107 

blue  paint,  to  draw  near  for  them.  A  little  later  they  were 
rapidly  rowed  over  the  mile  of  sparkling  water  that  lay  be- 
tween the  ship  and  the  line  of  dazzling  shore  ;  the  boat 
was  steered  in  to  the  steps  of  the  wooden  pier,  they  land- 
ed, and  were  presently  walking  along  the  glaring  white 
sands  of  Turk's  Island,  taking  in  comprehensively  the  line 
of  small  wooden  buildings  on  one  side,  and  the  wide  ocean 
prospect  on  the  other.  "And  now,"  said  Atherton,  "if 
we  are  to  play  the  part  of  sightseers,  we  must  find  the 
salt  works  which  are  the  chief  industry  of  the  island  ;  after 
having  seen  which  we  can  with  a  clear  conscience  devote 
ourselves  to  idling." 

They  were  not  long  in  finding  signs  of  the  principal  in- 
dustry of  Turk's  Island.  Just  behind  the  single  line  of 
houses  which  fringe  the  curving  shore  are  the  salt  ponds, 
where  sea-water  is  let  in  to  evaporate  and  deposit  the  crys- 
tallized salt  which  has  made  the  name  of  this  barren  little 
Bahama  isle  known  to  the  entire  world.  Great  mounds  of 
salt,  white  and  glistening  as  snow,  were  piled  along  their 
margins  ;  and  having  tasted  a  few  grains,  Atherton  de- 
clared their  duty  accomplished. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  hearing  the  echo  of  voices,  "I 
fear  that  the  party  from  the  ship  who  came  ashore  just  be- 
fore us,  having  taken  in  all  the  rest  of  the  island,  are  turn- 
ing their  steps  and  their  cameras  towards  the  salt  ponds. 
Lest  we  should  point  a  moral  against  sightseeing  by  ap- 
pearing in  their  photographs,  let  us  at  once  retreat." 

He  moved  as  he  spoke  into  a  lane  which  led  back  in  the 
direction  they  had  come  ;  and,  the  village  being  more  re- 
markable for  length  than  depth,  they  were  a  moment  later 
again  facing  the  sea. 

"  Are  we  now  to  indulge  in  idling?"  asked  De  Marsil- 
lac.  "  But  Turk's  Island  appears  deficient  in  places  suit- 


108  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

able  for  that  amusement.  Returning  to  the  ship  seems  the 
only  alternative  to  walking  indefinitely  over  glaring  sand 
in  the  hot  sunshine." 

"  I  don't  think  we  shall  need  to  walk  very  far  in  this 
direction,"  said  Atherton,  turning  to  the  left,  "  before  we 
have  the  shore  and  ocean  to  ourselves.  Then  we  will  find 
a  bit  of  shade,  where  we  can  rest  and  talk," 

Beyond  the  village  limits)  which  were  indeed  soon 
reached,  they  found  a  long  stretch  of  beach,  upon  which 
the  surf  curled  creamily  and  the  sun  beat  hotly,  so  they 
were  glad  to  seek  the  first  shade  which  offered — that  of  a 
large  tree,  with  spreading  roots  and  foliage,  which  grew  by 
the  wayside.  Throwing  themselves  down  here,  they  bared 
their  heads  to  the  fresh  breeze  sweeping  in  from  the  flash- 
ing plain  of  waters  stretching  to  the  verge  of  the  horizon, 
and  were  silent  for  several  minutes,  drinking  in  the  wide 
beauty  of  the  scene. 

"  Nothing  that  has  been  said  of  the  charm  of  the  sea  is 
exaggerated,"  murmured  the  boy  at  length,  with  a  soft, 
deep  sigh.  "  I  think  I  should  like  to  live  on  an  island,  in 
order  to  be  surrounded  by  it  on  all  sides." 

' '  You  might  take  your  choice  among  a  thousand  or  so 
of  these  Bahama  cays,"  said  Atherton.  "  Or  it  might  be 
better  to  go  down  into  the  Caribbean  Sea,  among  the  Vir- 
gins. Or,  better  yet,  the  isle  of  Tortuga,  that  old  home  of 
the  buccaneers — from  whence  they  descended  upon  what 
is  now  Hayti,  and  upon  Jamaica — is,  I  believe,  again  unin- 
habited and  open  to  settlement." 

"  I  should  not  care  to  make  a  home  in  a  place  so  asso- 
ciated with  pirates  and  their  deeds  of  blood,"  said  De  Mar- 
sillac.  "  Don't  think  that  I  am  descended  from  any  of 
those  freebooters.  Our  family  records  are  quite  clear  of 
such  stain.  After  the  eastern  end  of  Santo  Domingo  had 


THE    MAX    OF   THE    FAMILY.  109 

been  declared  a  French  colony,  our  ancestor,  Raoul  de  Mar- 
sillac,  a  '  cadet '  of  a  noble  Breton  family,  came  over  in 
some  official  capacity,  purchased  large  estates  and  remained 
in  the  island.  It  was  his  great-grandson  who  was  killed  at 
the  time  of  the  insurrection." 

"  Which  removes  you  six — or  is  it  seven? — generations 
from  the  Breton  cadet, ' '  observed  Atherton.  ' '  Yet  I 
fancy  he  looked  something  like  you  ;  for  you  are  singu- 
larly like  the  French  type  of  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  as 
one  sees  it  in  the  portraits  of  that  time.  Powder  your 
hair,  dress  you  in  the  fashion  of  that  period,  put  a  sword 
at  your  side,  and  you  might  be  the  original  Raoul  de  Mar- 
sillac  going  beyond  seas  to  seek  his  fortune.  And  I  think 
that  you  would  like  to  be  going  to  reconquer  those  rich 
lands  which  your  forefathers  made  the  wonder  of  the  world 
for  their  productiveness." 

11  You  are  right,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  seems  a  shameful 
thing  that  this  island,  so  marvellous  in  its  beauty  and  fer- 
tility, be  lost  to  civilization.  I  should  of  all  things  like  to 
reconquer  and  reclaim  it.  But  since  that  cannot  be,  1  am 
determined  at  least  to  recover  that  small  part  of  all  my 
people  lost  there  of  which  I  know." 

"  You  have  infected  me  with  your  hope  that  you  may  be 
able  to  do  so,"  said  Atherton.  "  I  have  been  giving  the 
matter  much  consideration  since  we  talked  of  it  yesterday  ; 
and  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  probable  it  appears  to 
me  that  such  a  deposit  may  have  remained  undisturbed 
during  the  century  which  has  elapsed  since  it  was  buried. 
Do  you  know  exactly  where  the  estate  of  your  ancestor  is 
situated  ?" 

"  Yes,  exactly.  It  is  on  the  Plaine  du  Nord — a  famous 
plain  of  the  northern  province,  where  the  insurrection  be- 
gan— four  leagues  from  Cape  Frangais,  now  Cape  Haytien. " 


110  THE   MAX   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  Good  !     Have  you  by  chance  a  map  with  you  ?" 

De  Marsillac  replied  by  producing  from  the  inner  pocket 
of  his  coat  a  folded  piece  of  thin  paper,  which  proved  to  be 
a  map  of  Santo  Domingo.  Spreading  it  out  between  them, 
the  two  bent  their  heads  over  it  ;  and  Atherton,  having 
located  the  Plaine  du  Nord,  said  : 

"  A  plan  has  occurred  to  me  which  I  judge  from  this  map 
to  be  entirely  feasible.  Here  at  the  head  of  the  Plaine  du 
Nord  is,  you  perceive,  Sans  Souci,  the  palace  of  the  black 
king  and  tyrant  Christophe  ;  and  beyond  that  again,  higher 
in  the  mountains,  is  the  citadel  which  he  built,  and  which 
all  who  have  seen  it  describe  as  the  most  wonderful  thing 
of  its  kind,  not  only  in  the  West  Indies,  but  in  the  world. 
As  intelligent  travellers,  we  must  see  this  citadel  ;  and 
since  the  estate  of  your  family  lies  immediately  on  our 
route,  what  is  easier  than  that  we  should  pause  on  the  way 
and  make  our  search  without  any  one  being  the  wiser  ?" 

"  We!"  repeated  the  other,  lifting  startled  eyes  from 
the  map  to  the  face  of  his  companion.  "  But  you  are  not 
going  to  Hayti  ?" 

"  Am  1  not  ?  There  you  are  mistaken.  Nothing  so  im- 
portant calls  me  to  Santo  Domingo  that  I  should  pass  a 
country  so  unique  without  examining  its  political  and  social 
conditions.  And,  then,  there  is  the  citadel  of  Christophe, 
of  which  I  have  just  spoken.  One  should  on  no  account 
leave  that  unseen. ' ' 

The  boy  sat  up,  pushing  back  with  a  quick  gesture  the 
clustering  locks  from  his  forehead,  so  that  they  formed  a 
tumbled,  curling  mass  around  his  face,  to  which  the  sun 
and  the  sea  had  given  a  Murillo-like  color  that  added  to  its 
picturesqueness. 

"It  is  impossible  !*'  the  young  voice  said  hurriedly. 
"  You  are  only  thinking  of  doing  this  on  my  account — and 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  Ill 

I  cannot  allow  it.  Mr.  Atherton,  you  must  not  think  of 
such  a  thing  !" 

"  And  when,  Monsieur  de  Marsillac,  did  you  recover 
seignioral  rights  in  the  island  of  Hayti  ?"  asked  Atherton 
good-humoredly.  "  I  really  do  not  think  you  have  the 
power  to  forbid  my  landing  at  the  Cape  ;  and  for  the  rest, 
I  was  foolish  enough  to  imagine  that  you  would  be  rather 
glad  of  my  assistance  in  your  undertaking." 

"  And  so  I  would,"  the  other  replied  eagerly,  "  if — if 
things  were  different.  But  as  it  is,  what  you  propose  is 
impossible.  It  cannot  be  thought  of." 

"But  why  not?"  asked  Atherton,  surprised  by  this 
vehemence,  and  perhaps  a  little  disappointed  as  well  ;  for 
he  had  anticipated  a  very  different  response  to  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  intention. 

The  boy  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  without  reply,  and 
in  that  moment  many  things  rushed  through  his  mind. 
He  suddenly  colored,  and  the  clear  hazel  eyes  fell  as  if  in 
shame. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  think  me  very  ungrateful  for  your 
kindness,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  But  it  is  not  so.  I 
feel  it  deeply.  Only  I  also  feel  that  it  would  be  very  selfish 
to  accept  such  a  sacrifice  of  time  and  comfort  as  would  be 
involved  in  your  breaking  off  your  voyage,  and  running  the 
risk  of  many  inconveniences  if  not  dangers,  in  order  to  serve 
the  interest  of  a  stranger.  It  is  very  kind — it  is  more  than 
kind — of  you  to  think  of  it.  But,  all  the  same,  you  must 
not  do  it." 

"  All  the  same  I  intend  to  do  it,"  Atherton  replied. 
"  If  you  did  not  wish  me  to  take  a  part  in  your  adventure, 
you  should  never  have  told  me  anything  about  it.  Some- 
where within  me  there  is  yet  the  spirit  of  a  boy,  and  what 
boy  would  not  be  fascinated  by  the  prospect  of  a  search 


112  THE    MAN    OF    THE    FAMILY. 

for  hidden  treasure? — although  I  believe  you  don't  like 
your  ancestor's  hidden  wealth  to  be  called  by  that  name." 

"  Only  because  it  makes  my  search  seem  wild  and  absurd, 
like  a  dime  romance.  You  know  what  you  thought  when 
I  told  you  of  it  first." 

' '  Ah  !  but  since  then  I  am  quite  converted  to  your  views 
— so  much  so  that  I  mean  to  have  a  share  in  finding  this 
treasure.  You  see,  as  I  have  told  you,  I  arn  a  man  very 
much  in  want  of  an  interest — a  want  which  I  do  not  feel 
that  a  sugar  estate  in  Santo  Domingo  is  at  all  likely  to  fill. 
In  all  seriousness,  my  boy,  I  have  determined  to  see  you 
through  this  affair,  which  you  are  too  young  ever  to  have 
undertaken  alone  ;  and  which  will  require  all  our  united 
fund  of  wisdom,  cunning,  and  contrivance  to  carry  to  suc- 
cess. So  let  us  say  no  more  about  it." 

"  I  must  say  how  grateful  I  am— how  much  I  feel  your 
kindness — 

"  It  is  really  unnecessary,  since  it  is  I  who  am  obliged  to 
you  for  furnishing  me  with  an  adventure  such  as  I  could 
never  have  hoped  for  ;  and  incidentally  for  an  excuse  to^ 
visit  a  country  which  must  be  interesting,  if  only  from  its 
unlikeness  to  all  others,  and  the  novel  conditions  on  which 
it  rests.  Now,  there  are  many  practical  details  to  be  ar- 
ranged when  we  reach  the  Cape,  but  meanwhile  the  chief 
point  is  settled  :  we  undertake  this  search  together  ;  and 
if  the  first  Henri  de  Marsillac's  treasure  remains  undis- 
turbed where  he  buried  it,  the  second  Henri  de  Marsillac 
shall  obtain  it  ;  and  here  is  my  hand  upon  that. ' ' 

Half-laughing,  he  held  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
Henri  de  Marsillac  to  whom  he  pledged  his  assistance  could 
not  fail  to  place  his  own  within  it.  As  it  chanced,  their 
hands  had  never  met  before,  nor  had  Atherton  noticed  that 
of  the  boy  farther  than  to  observe  that  it  was  very  slender 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  113 

and  delicate.  But  as  it  lay  now  in  his  grasp  he  became 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  it  was  even  more  slender  than  he 
had  imagined  ;  and,  although  firm  and  vigorous,  clothed 
in  a  skin  fine  as  satin. 

"  By  Jove  !"  he  said  involuntarily,  looking  down  at  it. 
"  What  a  hand — small  and  soft  as  a  woman's  !  You  can 
never  have  played  ball  very  much,  or  rowed,  or " 

"  No  ;  I  never  cared  for  athletic  sports,"  said  the  other, 
coloring,  as  he  quickly  drew  back  his  hand.  "  There  are 
other  things  that  seem  to  me  better  worth  a  man's  doing  ; 
as  horsemanship,  fencing " 

"  So  Raoul  de  Marsillac  would  have  said.  You  are,  I 
see,  a  survival  of  another  race  in  more  than  appearance. 
But  I  fear,  Sieur  de  Marsillac,  that  it  will  require  other 
hands  than  yours  to  dig  for  your  inheritance." 

The  Sieur  de  Marsillac  glanced  rather  ruefully  a't  his 
hands. 

"  I  am  afraid  they  are  not  good  for  much  in  that  way," 
he  said.  "  But  we  must  get  those  whose  business  it  is  to 
dig  ;  and  if  you  give  me  a  pistol  or  a  sword,  I  will  show 
you  that  I  can  at  least  defend  my  inheritance." 

"  You  would  have  surely  had  to  defend  it,  and  the  end 
of  the  matter  would  probably  have  been  that  the  spot  out 
of  which  the  inheritance  was  taken  would  have  served  as 
the  grave  of  the  inheritor,  had  you  proceeded  to  the  search 
with  only  such  hands  as  the  country  could  have  furnished. 
My  dear  boy,  what  a  good  thing  it  was — if  you  will  allow 
me  to  say  so — that  we  sailed  on  the  same  ship  !" 

The  boy  looked  up  with  a  light  of  almost  passionate  grati- 
tude on  his  face. 

"It  is  for  me  to  say  that,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  and  I  do 
cay  it  with  all  my  heart.  It  was  such  great  good  fortune — 
for  me — that  I  wish  I  could  send  a  message  across  these 


114  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

leagues  of  ocean  to  tell  those  who  are  suffering  anxiety  on 
my  account  what  a  helper  I  have  found." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  MOKNING  of  wide,  tropical  splendor — fresh,  delicious, 
filled  with  the  very  breath  of  Eden  ;  the  sleeping  ocean  a 
flashing  expanse  of  blue  and  silver  ;  the  sky  a  great  vault 
of  lucent  turquoise,  and  a  pale,  misty,  magical  coast  ;  a 
vision  of  azure  mountains,  melting  and  blending  in  the 
most  exquisite  lines,  while  about  their  lordly  heads  were 
gathered  cloud-wreaths  of  softest  beauty  and  shining  radi- 
ance— this  was  the  picture  to  be  seen  from  the  deck  of  the 
New  York  as  she  steamed  towards  the  famous  bay  of  Cape 
Haytien,  once  the  Cape  Fran9ais  of  the  French,  and  earlier 
yet  the  Guarico  of  the  Spaniards. 

Atherton,  who  was  the  first  of  the  passengers  on  deck, 
tapped  on  the  closed  window  of  De  Marsillac's  room. 

"  Come  out  !"  he  cried.  "  This  is  no  time  for  slug- 
gardly  repose.  We  are  in  the  most  historic  waters  of  the 
New  World,  and  in  sight  of  its  loveliest  coast.  Come  out  !" 

"  In  a  moment,"  an  eager  voice  replied.  And  it  was 
hardly  more  than  that  when  the  slight  figure  emerged  from 
the  cabin  door  and  joined  Atherton,  where  he  stood  watch- 
ing the  entrancing  picture  which  every  minute  more  clearly 
revealed. 

"  I  am  endeavoring  to  fancy  the  feelings  of  Columbus, 
when  this  coast  first  appeared  to  him,"  he  said.  "  With 
what  a  thrill  he  must  have  descried  those  dream-like 
heights,  which  were  to  be  in  beauty  as  in  richness  the  cul- 
mination and  crown  of  his  discoveries.  Had  ever  explorer 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  115 

before  such  a  reward  !  Could  even  his  wildest  dreams  have 
fancied  such  a  New  World  !  And  yet  it  seemed  an  earnest 
of  the  misfortunes  which  were  to  befall  him  on  this  Isle  of 
Hispaniola,  that  in  the  bay  we  are  entering,  on  Christmas 
Eve  of  1492,  the  Santa  Maria  was  wrecked." 

"  Was  it  here  ?"  the  boy  asked.  "  Strange  that  so 
heavenly  a  spot  could  have  been  the  scene  of  such  a  mis- 
fortune !" 

"  Not  strange  at  all  to  a  sailor's  eye.  Ask  our  captain, 
who  has  been  lying  off  for  several  hours  waiting  for  day- 
light to  enter  the  harbor,  what  lie  thinks  of  it." 

But  nothing  could  be  considered  now — not  even  the 
memory  of  the  great  admiral  viewing  from  his  doomed 
flag-ship  the  wondrous  coasts  opening  before  him — save  the 
picturesque  beauty  unfolding  as  they  drew  nearer  the  land. 
The  magical,  cloud-draped  mountains  receded  into  the 
background  ;  while  close  at  hand  bold,  verdure-clad  heights 
rose  abruptly  out  of  the  flashing  tides  that  broke  in  white 
surf  against  the  cliffs  and  detached  masses  of  rock  that 
formed  their  base.  Light,  lovely  mists  were  curling  about 
them,  crowning  their  summits  and  lying  in  their  green 
gorges.  All  was  fresh,  radiant,  enchanting,  as  if  Nature 
had  just  left  the  hand  of  God.  Slowly  steaming  in,  they 
rounded  that  rocky  headland,  crowned  with  plumy  palms, 
which  the  Cape  thrusts  into  the  sea,  and  to  which  clings 
the  old  fortification  of  Fort  Picolet,  its  guns  commanding 
the  narrow,  winding  channel  ;  and  saw  opening  before  them 
the  superb  bay,  with  space  on  its  broad  bosom  for  a  navy  to 
ride,  and  with  such  noble  sweep  of  shore,  such  divine  frame 
of  distant  sapphire  heights,  as  not  even  these  "  summer 
isles  of  Eden"  can  elsewhere  show. 

"  Magnificent  !"  exclaimed  Atherton,  as  his  glance  took 
in  the  wide,  land-locked  expanse.  "  No  wonder  the  buc- 


116  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

caneers  seized  such  a  harbor.  And  yonder  is  the  town  they 
founded — the  historic  '  Cape. ' ' 

Yes,  there  it  lay — the  old  town  which  later  became  the 
Paris  of  the  West  Indies,  and  later  yet  the  scene  of  the 
most  horrible  atrocities  of  the  negro  revolt.  Viewed  across 
the  emerald  waters  of  the  harbor,  its  mass  of  gayly  tinted 
buildings  presented  a  strikingly  picturesque  appearance,  as 
they  occupy  a  narrow  plain  which  lies  between  the  shore 
and  two  noble  mountains  which  rise  abruptly  in  wooded 
steeps  behind. 

De  Marsillac  watched  with  fascinated  gaze  the  gradual 
revealing  of  this  spot  as  they  drew  nearer.  His  thoughts 
were  with  the  past,  with  those  of  his  own  blood  who  had 
lived  here  their  gay,  luxurious,  careless  lives,  lapped  in 
ease  and  pleasure  until  the  storm  in  which  they  perished 
burst  upon  them.  He  thought  of  his  great-great-grand- 
father dying  there,  after  that  wild  midnight  ride  for  his 
life  ;  and  of  the  wife  he  left,  with  her  infant  children  tak- 
ing refuge  on  a  foreign  vessel,  and  sailing  away,  broken- 
hearted and  penniless,  out  of  this  beautiful  bay — a  paradise 
transformed  into  a  hell.  He  was  still  silent  when,  the  ship 
having  dropped  her  anchor  in  front  of  the  town,  there 
came  borne  across  the  water  the  sweetest,  clearest,  most 
musical  chime  of  church-bells  that  ever  delighted  the  ear. 
As  the  silvery  sound  reached  them,  he  looked  up  with  a 
quick  glance  towards  his  companion. 

"  What  an  exquisite  welcome  !"  he  said.  "  Does  it  not 
seem  a  good  omen  that  that  is  the  first  sound  to  greet  me 
from  the  island  ?" 

"  We  will  hope  so,"  Atherton  answered.  "  Certainly 
the  appearance  of  things  is  calculated  to  raise  one's  spirits. 
Whatever  the  town  may  prove  on  nearer  view,  it  is  delight- 
fully picturesque  seen  from  here  ;  while  the  natural  setting 


THE    MAST    OF   THE    FAMILY.  117 

of  the  bay  is  the  most  beautiful  I  have  ever  beheld.  Some- 
where in  our  view  along  these  shores  is  the  place  where, 
out  of  the  material  of  the  wrecked  caravel,  Columbus  erect- 
ed the  fort  of  Navidad — the  first  European  settlement  in 
the  New  World,  though  one  with  a  most  tragic  fate." 

"  Everything  about  this  island  seems  to  lead  to  tragedy/' 
said  the  boy.  "  There  is  a  blood-stain  everywhere — and 
yet  how  divinely  beautiful  it  is  !" 

"Where  is  the  site  of  the  fort  of  Navidad  ?"  repeated 
the  purser,  who  came  up  at  the  moment,  and  to  whom 
Atherton  put  the  question.  "  Over  yonder,  I  believe,  near 
the  village  of  Petite  Anse.  And  there" — he  pointed  to  the 
westward  side  of  the  bay,  where,  dim,  misty,  inexpressibly 
fair  in  their  azure  robes,  rose  the  mighty  forms  of  the 
mountains  that  divide  Hayti  from  Santo  Domingo — 
"  stands  the  great  citadel  of  Christophe.  It  is  on  one  of 
those  highest  mountains.  With  a  good  glass  the  walls 
can  be  clearly  perceived  from  here. ' ' 

"  I  must  see  that  citadel,"  observed  Atherton.  "  From 
the  descriptions  given,  it  is  well  worth  a  visit." 

"  If  you  are  going  on  with  us,  you  can't  manage  it  at 
present,"  the  purser  said.  "  We  sail  to-morrow  morning." 

"  I  have  decided  to  stop  here,"  was  the  reply.  "  When 
does  your  next  steamer  come  along  ?" 

"  Probably  in  about  two  weeks.  But  you'll  not  have  a 
very  lively  tino  spending  two  weeks  at  the  Cape  with  noth- 
ing to  do." 

"  '  Nothing  to  do  '  is  a  condition  I  seldom  suffer  from," 
answered  Atherton.  "I  shall  have  much  to  do;  for  in 
that  time  I  intend  to  see,  if  not  all,  at  least  a  good  part  of 
Hayti.  I  shall  go  ashore  after  breakfast  to  look  up  quar- 
ters— and  there  is  the  breakfast  bell." 

"  What  is  this  I  hear,  Mr.  Atherton  ?"  asked  the  cap- 


118  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

tain,  as  they  took  their  seats  at  table.  "  Are  you  thinking 
of  leaving  us  here  ?" 

"  I  have  decided  upon  doing  so,"  replied  Atherton.  "  I 
want  to  see  something  of  Hayti,  and  I  am  afraid  that  if  I 
don't  take  the  present  opportunity  I  may  not  have  another. 
I  may  leave  Santo  Domingo  by  another  route,  or  interest 
may  be  lacking,  or — or  any  one  of  several  things.  More- 
over, I  shall  have  my  young  friend  Mr.  de  Marsillac  as  a 
companion  at  the  present  time,  which  would  not  be  the 
case  later. ' ' 

The  captain  glanced  a  little  curiously  at  the  "  young 
friend"  indicated.  Like  others,  he  had  been  perhaps 
slightly  repelled  by  the  remarkable  reticence  of  this  particu- 
lar passenger  for  the  Cape.  The  business  of  every  one  else 
on  board — whether  it  were  logwood,  sugar,  tropical  fruits 
or  railroads— was  well  known;  but  this  boy  had  kept  his 
own  counsel  so  resolutely  that  no  one  knew  what  object  or 
interest  was  taking  him  to  the  island.  Secretiveness,  which 
is  not  a  very  agreeable  trait  in  any  one,  sits  with  a  peculiar- 
ly ill  grace  on  the  young  ;  and  the  frank  sailor  was  not  to 
blame  if  he  felt  otherwise  than  attracted  towards  this  ex- 
ceedingly secretive  youth. 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  repaid,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  very  much 
fear  that  you'll  find  accommodations  so  bad  that  you'll  wish 
yourself  back  on  the  New  York  before  we  have  been  gone 
very  long." 

"  Mr.  Schlagenbach,"  said  Atherton,  bowing  to  a  friend- 
ly German  across  the  table,  "  has  promised  to  see  if  he  can- 
not get  me  quarters  with  some  friends  of  his.  In  that  case 
I  can  make  the  Cape  my  headquarters,  and  carry  a  camp- 
ing equipment  with  me  when  I  take  excursions  into  the 
country." 

"That  will  be  best,"  several  voices  said  approvingly; 


THE   MAN"   OF   THE   FAMILY.  119 

and  then  a  shower  of  advice  descended  upon  Atherton 
from  the  surrounding  travellers,  most  of  whom  knew  the 
different  ports  of  Hayti  well. 

"For  my  sins,"  said  one,  "as  well  as  for  logwood,  I 
must  stop  here  and  go  to  Port  de  Paix  in  one  of  these  small 
sailing  vessels  that  they  call  in  Santo  Domingo  a  goleta.  I 
only  wish  I  had  your  chance  of  continuing  on  the  New 
York.  Ilayti  wouldn't  tempt  me  much." 

"  It  will  not  tempt  Mr.  Atherton  a  second  time,"  said 
another,  with  a  laugh.  "  But  it's  worth  while  to  see  it 
once,  since  there's  nothing  in  the  world  like  it." 

It  was  not  until  breakfast  was  over  that  De  Marsillac, 
drawing  Atherton  aside,  asked  if  his  intention  to  land  at 
the  Cape  could  not  even  yet  be  changed.  "  I  thought  of 
the  matter  all  night,"  he  added  wistfully  ;  "  and  it 
seems  too  great  a  sacrifice  on  your  part  for  me  to  al- 
low  " 

"  You  said  something  of  that  kind  yesterday,"  interposed 
Atherton  with  good-humored  impatience  ;  "and  I  believe 
I  told  you  I  had  no  intention  of  asking  your  permission  to 
land  on  the  soil  of  the  Republic  of  Hayti.  Consider  that  I 
have  made  the  same  statement  again,  and  that  the  discus- 
sion is  at  an  end.  Can  my  man  do  anything  for  you  ?  I 
have  told  him  to  put  up  my  traps  and  be  ready  to  land  this 
afternoon.  Meanwhile  we'll  go  ashore  and  see  what  my 
German  friend  can  do  for  us  in  the  way  of  finding  quar- 
ters ;  then  come  back  for  lunch,  and  afterwards  bid  Captain 
Rockwell  and  his  good  ship  adieu.  Nonsense  !" — as  the 
other  attempted  to  speak.  "  Let  us  have  no  more  of  this. 
Allans!" 

It  was  with  a  strange  thrill  that  De  Marsillac  found  him- 
self treading  the  soil  of  Hayti.  A  row  of  about  a  mile  over 
the  sparkling  water  of  the  bay  had  brought  them  to  a 


120  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

dilapidated  pier,  where  they  landed,  and  whence  a  few  steps 
led  them  to  the  principal  street  of  the  city  of  ruins. 

For  such  they  found  it  to  be.  The  appearance  of  the 
town,  viewed  from  the  deck  of  the  ship,  had  not  at  all  pre- 
pared them  for  its  reality,  nor  had  even  the  description 
of  those  who  knew  it  well.  It  is  indeed  impossible  to  con- 
ceive anything  like  this  city,  on  which  fire,  sword,  and 
earthquake — the  hand  of  man  and  that  of  God — have  alike 
done  their  worst.  In  amazement  the  two  newcomers 
walked  along  the  uneven,  dusty  streets,  filled  with  refuse 
of  every  possible  description,  where  great  piles  of  stones 
lay  as  they  had  fallen  in  the  great  earthquake  of  1842,  and 
regarded  with  constantly  increasing  wonder  the  immense 
extent  of  the  ruins  which  testified  what  the  town  had  once 
been,  with  its  stately  houses  built  entirely  of  stone,  its  well- 
paved  streets,  its  open  squares  decorated  with  fountains  ; 
its  churches  and  public  buildings  worthy  of  the  opulent, 
luxurious  city  which  existed  here  in  the  colonial  days. 
The  walls  of  those  once  splendid  dwellings  stand  now  great 
piles  of  shattered  masonry,  overgrown  with  the  luxuriant 
vegetation  of  the  tropics.  On  every  side  the  gaze  fell  upon 
carved  arches,  pillars,  and  balconies,  over  which  creepers 
ran  riot ;  superb  flights  of  stone  steps  ;  courtyards  and  roof- 
less salons,  in  which  were  growing  full-sized  palms,  bananas, 
and  other  trees  ;  while  amid  these  wrecks  of  past  splendor 
the  present  inhabitants  have  erected  low,  insignificant 
dwellings  of  wood — many  of  them  mere  cabins— and  all  the 
scenes  and  conditions  of  an  African  village  are  to  be  beheld 
in  the  midst  of  these  melancholy  ruins  of  an  overthrown 
civilization. 

"It  is  something  for  which  no  description  can  prepare 
one,"  said  Atherton,  as  they  threaded  their  way  amid  the 
piles  of  debris.  "  These  ruins  attest  a  past  magnificence 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  121 

fur  exceeding  one's  conception — and  in  their  midst,  with- 
out attempting  even  to  lift  a  fallen  stone,  burrow  a  race  of 
savages  !" 

"  You  have  never  read  the.  accounts  of  St.  Mery,  who 
visited  the  colony  before  the  insurrection,  and  who  par- 
ticularly describes  the  magnificence  of  the  Cape,  else  you 
would  not  be  surprised,"  said  De  Marsillac.  "  For  my- 
self, I  have  the  strangest  sensations  as  I  walk  these  streets, 
as  if  I  were  the  ghost  of  one  of  the  old  dwellers  here.  I 
have  read,  heard,  dreamed  so  much  of  the  colonial  life — for 
the  subject  always  possessed  a  peculiar  fascination  to  me — 
that  I  seem  to  have  made  a  part  of  it.  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
seen  all  this  before  ;  as  if  I  had  been  one  of  those  who 
feasted  and  revelled  within  these  walls  ;  as  if  I  had  once 
passed  up  and  down  those  steps" — he  pointed  to  a  stately 
flight  of  stone  steps  leading  from  the  street  to  a  great  carved 
doorway,  behind  which  were  roofless,  partially  fallen  walls 
and  a  wilderness  of  tropical  growth — "  to  and  from  a  wait- 
ing carriage,  into  which  I  was  handed  by  a  gentleman  with 
powdered  hair  and  a  sword  at  his  side " 

"  You  must,  then,  have  been  a  woman  in  those  days," 
said  Atherton,  glancing  at  him  with  a  smile. 

He  was  surprised  by  the  flame  of  color  that  mounted  into 
the  young  face,  only  a  moment  before  so  absorbed  in  im- 
aginations of  the  past. 

"What  an  absurd  dreamer  you  must  think  me  !"  said 
the  boy,  looking  away.  "  But,  dreams  apart,  I  wish  I 
knew  which  one  of  these  masses  of  ruins  belonged  to  my 
great-great-grandfather  and  was  the  house  in  which  he 
died." 

"  If  you  lived  here  in  a  former  state  of  existence,  you 
ought  to  know.  But,  seriously,  have  you  no  clue — do  you 
not  know  the  name  of  the  street  on  which  it  was  situated  ?" 


122  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"It  was,  I  think,  in  the  Rue  St.  Louis  ;  but  how  can 
one  tell  whether  the  streets  still  bear  their  old  names  ? 
The  people  look  so  forbidding  that  I  feel  a  hesitation  in  ad- 
dressing any  of  them." 

"  I  will  inquire,"  said  Atherton  ;  and,  pausing,  he  ad- 
dressed a  barefooted  policeman  in  fluent  French.  The 
man  stared,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  muttered  something 
unintelligible,  and  walked  away. 

"  Probably  he  does  not  understand  you,"  said  De  Mar- 
sillac.  "  I  believe  the  educated  class  alone  speak  French. 
The  others  speak  a  patois  called  Creole,  which  must  be  a 
good  deal  like  the  patois  our  Louisiana  negroes  speak. " 

"  You  understand  that,  I  suppose  ?'' 

"  Oh,  yes  !  One  catches  it  from  the  negroes  in  one's 
childhood." 

"  It  may  enable  you,  then,  to  talk  with  these  people, 
which  will  be  a  distinct  gain  in  enabling  us  to  dispense  with 
an  interpreter.  But  tell  me  now,  if  you  were  here  alone, 
what  could  you  possibly  do  to  effect  your  object  ?" 

De  Marsillac  gazed  around  at  the  heap  of  overgrown 
ruins,  the  neglected  streets,  the  throng  of  strange,  black 
faces  filled  with  hereditary  suspicion  and  dislike  of  the 
white  man,  and  his  heart  sank  within  him.  What,  indeed, 
could  he  do  ?  How  different  from  his  Louisiana,  and  the 
negroes  who  were  there  his  faithful  friends  and  assistants  ! 
What  foolish  daring,  what  presumption  of  ignorance,  had 
brought  him  here  with  so  vague  an  idea  of  the  difficulties 
that  would  confront  him  !  He  turned  his  gaze  to  Ather- 
ton's  face. 

4t  I  fear  that  I  could  do  nothing— alone/'  he  said.  "  But 
I  still  believe  that  God  will  give  me  success  ;  and  I  believe 
it  more  than  ever  since  He  has  sent  you  to  help  me.  For 
it  seems  to  me  almost  a  miracle — men  being  so  selfish  as 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  123 

they  are — that  you  should  do  this  for  me,  of  whom  you 
know  so  little." 

"  Men  are,  certainly,  as  a  rule,  very  selfish,"  Atherton 
replied  ;  "  and  I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  I  am  in 
any  striking  degree  an  exception  to  the  rule.  Yet  I  am  re- 
solved to  do  this  ;  although,  as  you  justly  remark,  I  know 
little  of  you.  But  yonder,  if  I  mistake  not,  comes  my 
good  friend,  Mr.  Schlagenbach  ;  and  I  judge  from  his 
beaming  expression  that  he  has  succeeded  in  obtaining  for 
us  the  lodgings  desired.  If  not,  I  think  we  had  better 
seek  shelter  in  the  ruins  of  your  ancestral  house  than  at- 
tempt to  find  our  comfort  in  such  an  inn  as  the  Cape  is 
likely  to  furnish." 

But  Mr.  Schlagenbach's  news  justified  his  beaming  ex- 
pression. The  tall,  friendly  German  was  overflowing  with 
satisfaction. 

"  I  am  happy  to  say  that  my  friend  will  have  pleasure  in 
receiving  you,"  he  said  to  Atherton  when  they  met.  "  And 
you  are  very  fortunate,  because  he  has  a  comfortable  house 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  town  ;  and,  since  his  wife  is  just 
now  in  Germany,  there  is  no  one  but  himself  to  occupy  it. 
Therefore  he  can  put  several  rooms  at  your  disposal." 

"1  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Atherton;  "and 
more  obliged  to  you  than  I  can  express.  Will  you  add  to 
your  kindness  by  introducing  us  to  your  friend,  so  that  we 
can  make  our  arrangements  ?" 

"  Oh,  with  great  pleasure  !  We  will  go  at  once  to  his 
counting-house.  It  is  on  this  street,  a  little  farther  along. " 

The  street  they  were  now  following,  which  ran  parallel 
with  the  shore  and  was  more  closely  built  than  any  other, 
was  chiefly  lined  with  business  houses,  structures  of  wood 
gayly  painted,  in  the  second  stories  of  which  the  families 
of  the  merchants  lived,  as  was  evident  from  the  glimpses 


124  THE   MAX    OP   THE   FAMILY. 

of  furnished  rooms  obtained  through  the  open  windows, 
and  the  household  scenes  on  the  balconies.  These  shops 
were  well  filled  with  goods,  and  trade  seemed  brisk.  But 
the  condition  of  this  principal  thoroughfare  was  hardly  bet- 
ter than  any  of  the  others,  while  it  was  filled  with  a  motley 
throng  of  black  people  ;  very  few  colored  (that  is,  mulatto) 
faces  being  seen,  and  fewer  still  white,  with  the  exception 
of  a  group  or  two  from  the  New  York.  Negresses  passed 
along,  trailing  freshly  starched  dresses  over  the  filthy  side- 
walks, and  wearing  brightly  striped  handkerchiefs  tied  in 
picturesque  turban  fashion  around  their  heads.  Others,  in 
short  blue  cotton  gowns  and  bare  black  legs  and  feet,  car- 
ried bundles  of  one  kind  or  another  on  their  heads,  hold- 
ing themselves  surprisingly  erect,  and  walking  with  an 
inimitable  ease  and  savage  grace.  The  men  were  less  re- 
markable, and  seemed  to  De  Marsillac  much  like  any  aver- 
age throng  to  be  found  on  a  Southern  plantation,  or  the 
docks  and  negro  quarters  of  a  Southern  city.  Here  and 
there  faces  of  intelligence,  indicating  education,  were  to  be 
seen  ;  but  the  majority  were  of  a  very  low  intellectual  and 
strongly  animal  type,  with  now  and  again  a  countenance  of 
revolting  characteristics. 

"  If  you  want  to  fancy  yourself  on  the  Congo,  you  ought 
to  go  and  take  a  glimpse  of  the  market  yonder,"  said  Mr. 
Schlagenbach,  as  he  nodded  in  the  direction  of  a  cross- 
street.  "  It  is  on  the  next  square.  And  it  is  not  mere  re- 
port but  verified  fact  that  human  flesh  has  been  offered  for 
sale  there." 

"Impossible!"  cried  Atherton,  with  an  expression  of 
disgust  and  incredulity. 

"  Ah  !  you  say  '  impossible '  because  you  know  not 
Havti,"  replied  the  other.  "  Get  those  who  live  here  to  tell 
you  what  they  know.  But  here  we  are  at  my  friend 's  place. " 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  125 

He  turned  as  he  spoke  into  a  large  warehouse  filled  with 
merchandise  of  various  descriptions,  the  odor  of  green 
coffee  strongly  predominating  ;  and  made  his  way  to  where 
a  short,  rotund  German  of  middle  age — dressed,  like  most 
men  in  the  tropics,  in  white  clothing — was  seated  at  a  desk. 
He  stepped  from  his  high  stool  as  the  trio  approached  ; 
and  Mr.  Schlagenbach,  benignly  smiling,  introduced  his 
companions  to  Mr.  Hoffman. 

"  We  are  very  glad  to  hear,"  said  Atherton,  after  shaking 
hands,  "  that,  owing  to  Mr.  Schlagenbach 's  kind  recom- 
mendation, you  will  afford  us  quarters  during  the  short 
stay  which  we  expect  to  make  at  the  Cape." 

"It  is  something  which  we  who  live  here  expect  to  do 
for  our  friends,"  the  German  replied.  He  was  a  stolid 
man,  with  none  of  Schlagenbach 's  beaming  friendliness, 
but  a  certain  air  which  seemed  to  say  that  what  he  prom- 
ised he  would  perform.  "If  we  did  not,"  he  added, 
' '  they  would  fare  very  badly.  Ever  been  in  Hayti  before, 
Mr.  Atherton  ?" 

"  Never." 

"  And  you  don't  come  on  business  ?" 

"  Merely  to  see  the  country." 

"  Ah  !  Then  I  fancy  you  will  not  require  any  quarters 
longer  than  a  good  opportunity  offers  for  getting  away. 
Meanwhile,  since  my  family  are  absent,  I  can  put  my  house 
at  your  disposition.  Have  you  come  ashore  at  present  pre- 
pared to  remain  ?" 

"  No  ;  we  only  came  ashore  to  look  at  things  and  make 
the  arrangement  now  happily  concluded.  We  will  return 
to  the  ship,  and  coins  ashore  with  our  luggage  this  after- 
noon." 

"  If  you  will  name  an  hour,  I  will  meet  you  at  the  wharf 
with  my  carriage." 


126  THE   MAK   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  You  are  exceedingly  kind.  Under  those  circumstances 
it  would  ba  better  for  you  to  name  the  hour  yourself." 

"  Shall  we  say  five  o'clock,  then  ?  That  will  give  you 
time  to  settle  comfortably  before  dinner.  By  the  bye,  how 
many  rooms  do  you  require  ?" 

"  Three.     I  have  with  me  an  English  servant." 

"  Very  well.  They  will  be  prepared — oh,  no  more 
thanks  !  We  expect,  as  I  have  said,  to  do  this  kind  of 
thing  here  on  the  island,  and  I  am  glad  to  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  you.  I  need  hardly  say  that  your  father's 
name  is  well  known  to  me." 

"  And  therein,"  said  De  Marsillac,  in  a  low  voice,  as 
they  left  the  warehouse,  "  lies  the  secret  of  Mr.  Hoffman's 
obliging  readiness  to  take  us  under  his  roof.  You  asked 
me  a  little  while  ago  what  I  should  do  without  you,  Mr. 
Atherton.  I  begin  to  perceive  clearly  that  I  should  do 
very  badly  indeed." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AT  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  their  luggage  having 
already  been  sent  ashore  under  care  of  Atherton 's  capable 
English  servant,  the  two  friends  shook  hands  with  the 
genial  captain  and  such  of  the  passengers  as  had  formed 
their  acquaintance,  went  down  the  ladder  at  the  ship's  side 
to  the  boat  awaiting  them,  sprang  lightly  into  it  as  it  tossed 
up  and  down  on  the  green  waves,  and  were  rowed  across 
the  bay  to  the  city  lying  under  the  shadow  of  its  superb 
heights,  where  their  adventure  was  to  be  carried  out  to  the 
final  issue  of  success  or  failure. 

According  to  his  promise,  Mr.  Hoffman  met  them  at  the 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  127 

wharf  with  a  light  carriage,  such  as  those  foreigners  who 
do  business  in  the  Cape  but  live  outside  generally  use. 

"  I  have  sent  your  man  on  with  your  things,"  he  said  to 
Atherton,  who  glanced  around.  "  Jump  in,  both  of  you, 
and  we'll  be  at  my  place  in  fifteen  minutes." 

Complying  with  this  request,  they  rattled  away  in  an  op- 
posite direction  from  that  which  they  had  taken  in  the 
morning,  crossed  a  stone  bridge  over  a  dry  watercourse, 
and,  driving  along  a  road  which  followed  the  shore,  with 
masses  of  overgrown  ruins  on  its  landward  side,  pres- 
ently descried  before  them  a  red  roof  showing  with  pic- 
turesque effect  above  a  great  mass  of  greenery,  which  Mr. 
Hoffman  pointed  out  as  his  residence. 

It  proved  to  be  a  very  attractive  place.  The  large  house, 
although  single-storied  and  rather  slightly  built  of  wood, 
was  an  ideal  dwelling  for  tropical  purposes,  with  wide  doors 
opening  in  every  direction  to  take  advantage  of  every  sea 
or  land  breeze,  and  broad  verandas  completely  encircling 
it,  as  it  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  garden  filled  with  luxuriant 
trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers.  The  rooms  in  readiness  for  the 
newcomers  were  all  that  could  be  desired  in  cleanliness  and 
neatness  ;  and  when  they  sat  down  to  dinner  there  was 
something  very  suggestive  of  home  to  the  young  Louisianian 
in  the  black  faces  of  the  servants  who  waited  upon  them. 
Mr.  Hoffman  apologized  for  shortcomings  on  the  ground 
of  his  wife's  absence,  but  to  the  two  who  had  feared  faring 
so  differently  there  seemed  no  need  for  apology  at  all. 

Dinner  over,  the  host  proposed  that  they  should  adjourn 
to  Ihe  veranda  to  smoke  ;  and  while  he  and  Atherton  light- 
ed their  cigars,  their  companion  walked  away  from  them  to 
another  side  of  the  building,  where  he  paused  to  contem- 
plate the  picture  spread  before  him,  with  the  strangest  pos- 
sible mingling  of  thoughts  and  feelings. 


128  THE    MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

It  was  a  picture  to  rouse  many  thoughts,  apart  from  its 
personal  significance  to  himself.  The  air  was  perfectly 
still,  hardly  the  whisper  of  a  breeze  stirred  the  heavy  tropi- 
cal foliage  drooping  around  the  veranda  ;  and  the  waters  of 
the  wide  bay  seemed  sleeping  like  an  inland  lake,  while  the 
masts  and  spars  of  the  ships  lying  at  anchor  upon  it  showed 
like  marine  etchings  in  the  delicate  mingling  of  starshine 
and  moonshine,  an  exquisite  radiance  in  which  the  hushed 
waters,  the  far  outlines  of  shore  and  mountains,  the  town 
gleaming  with  lights,  and  the  dark,  majestic  heights  above 
it,  were  all  touched  with  a  mysterious  beauty  and  charm. 
What  memories  of  the  past  rushed  upon  the  mind  of  the 
gazer  as  he  stood  looking  out  over  the  tranquil  scene  !  — 
memories  of  the  great  Genoese,  for  whom  no  doubt  these 
waters  slept  as  softly  and  plashed  as  caressingly,  as  if  they 
had  not  betrayed  him  to  shipwreck,  and  whose  eyes  first 
gazed  upon  the  enchanting  beauty  of  these  shores  ;  memo- 
ries of  the  doomed  defenders  of  Navidad,  with  the  unwrit- 
ten tragedy  of  their  fate  ;  memories  of  the  buccaneers  sail- 
ing into  this  noble  harbor  with  their  booty  from  plundered 
Spanish  galleons,  and  founding,  in  piracy  and  bloodshed, 
the  town  which  was  to  be  a  hundred  times  washed  in  blood  ; 
memories  of  colonial  wealth  and  splendor,  and  of  the  con- 
stantly arriving  ships  laden  with  their  dark  freight  of  slaves 
from  Africa — the  black  cloud  which  was  to  whelm  in  ruin 
the  prosperity  it  helped  for  a  time  to  build  ;  memories  of 
the  terrible  scenes  of  the  insurrection,  the  continuation  be- 
yond seas  of  the  not  less  terrible  scenes  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, and  of  the  wave  of  savagery  which  had  submerged 
forever  this  fairest  and  most  fertile  spot  of  all  God's  earth  ! 

"  That  seems  a  nice  boy,  Mr.  Atherton,"  Mr.  Hoffman 
had  meanwhile  remarked,  as  the  slim  young  figure  passed 
out  of  sight  around  a  corner  of  the  building. 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  129 

"  He  is  a  very  nice  boy,"  Atherton  agreed  ;  "  a  descend- 
ant, by  the  bye,  of  one  of  the  old  proprietors  of  the  colonial 
days.  His  people  owned  large  estates  near  here,  and  he  is 
anxious  to  visit  them — in  fact,  that  is  his  chief  reason  for 
coming  ashore  at  this  place.  I  suppose  there  will  be  no 
difficulty  in  paying  such  a  visit  ?" 

"  That  depends  upon  how  far  he  wishes  to  go,"  the  other 
replied.  "  There  are  parts  of  the  country  that  are  neither 
agreeable  nor  safe  for  foreigners  ;  but  if  the  estates  are  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Cape,  he  might  venture 
to  visit  them,  although  I  should  not  advise  him  to  mention 
the  fact  of  his  being  the  descendant  of  their  former  owner. 
The  hatred  and  suspicion  of  the  negroes  towards  white  men 
are  inextinguishable,  and  would  naturally  be  greater  towards 
the  representative  of  one  of  their  old  masters." 

"  I  should  have  fancied  that  a  century  of  independence 
might  have  eradicated  such  feelings,"  Atherton  observed. 

"  A  century  of  independence  has  eradicated  nothing  and 
improved  nothing  in  the  character  of  this  people,"  was  the 
reply.  "  In  point  of  fact,  the  whole  truth  has  never  been 
told  to  the  world  in  regard  to  Hayti,  else  civilized  nations 
would  grow  ashamed  of  protecting  in  a  farce  of  self-govern- 
ment a  race  of  savages  as  steeped  in  barbarism  as  their  fel- 
low-countrymen on  the  west  coast  of  Africa." 

"  Everything  which  I  have  heard  and  read  has  led  me  to 
the  same  conclusion,"  said  Atherton  ;  "  but,  from  certain 
dark  hints  which  are  let  fall  by  those  who  know  the  coun- 
try, I  fancy  the  worst  is  not  known  outside.  For  instance, 
what  do  all  these  stories  about  cannibalism  amount  to  ?  I 
confess  that  I  have  heard  them  with  incredulity." 

"  Very  likely,  "said  the  German  dryly.  He  smoked  for 
a  moment  in  silence.  "  Most  strangers  hear  them  with  in- 
credulity," he  added  ;  "  but  there  is  nothing  more  certain 


130  THE   MAX   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

than  that  they  are  true,  and  that  the  constant  effort  of  the 
government  is  to  ignore  and  hide  this  crime  rather  than  ex- 
pose and  suppress  it." 

"  But  do  you,  a  resident  of  the  country  for  years,  of  your 
own  knowledge  declare  this  thing  ?"  Atherton  persisted. 

"  Of  my  own  knowledge  !"  repeated  the  other  with  em- 
phasis. "  I  have  not  seen  the  cannibals  at  their  feasts — if 
that  is  what  you  mean — but,  short  of  that,  I  know  it  as 
thoroughly  as  I  can  know  anything,  as  thoroughly  as  every 
one  else  on  the  island  knows  it.  Why,  it  is  a  fact  that  the 
police  are  bound  to  examine  the  basket  of  every  peasant 
who  comes  in  to  market,  to  prevent  the  smuggling  in  for 
sale  of  human  flesh,  and  that  time  and  again  it  has  been 
seized.  Don't  you  know  that  the  mysterious  disappear- 
ance of  children,  carried  off  to  be  sacrificed  at  their  Vaudoux 
rites,  keeps  every  mother  on  the  island  in  terror  ?  Look 
yonder  !" — he  pointed  to  the  immense  mountain  over- 
shadowing them,  where,  midway  up  its  dark  side,  a  light 
gleamed  like  a  star.  "  That  light  indicates  the  dwelling 
of  a  Vaudoux  papaloi,  or  priest.  There,  it  is  well  known, 
the  negroes  go  to  celebrate  their  infernal  mysteries,  of 
which  the  worship  of  the  serpent  is  chief  ;  but  they  would 
tell  you  that  they  do  not  offer  human  sacrifice.  Yet  it  is 
only  a  few  years  since  two  white  men — one  an  American, 
the  other  a  Dominican — witnessed  the  murder  of  human 
victims  in  that  very  spot." 

"  There  /"  said  Atherton,  gazing  in  horror-struck  fasci- 
nation at  the  light  which  seemed  to  shine  with  so  baleful 
a  glow  out  of  the  deep  obscurity  surrounding  it.  "  In 
sight  of  a  seaport  where  contact  with  the  outer  world 
might  be  supposed  to  produce  some  glimmer  of  civilization 
— what  horrible  audacity  !" 

"  No  particular  audacity  was  required,"  replied  his  host 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  131 

quietly.  "  But  these  facts  will  give  you  some  idea  of  how 
shallow  the  civilization  of  Hayti  is,  and  will  indicate  what 
I  meant  when  I  said  that  I  would  not  advise  your  young 
friend  to  venture  too  far  into  the  country  in  the  attempt  to 
visit  the  former  estates  of  his  family.  If  he  disappeared — 
well,  do  you  know  what  was  said  in  open  court  to  the  jury 
by  the  advocate  of  a  negro  who  had  murdered  a  Frenchman 
in  Port  au  Prince  !  '  Aprh  tout,  ce  n'est  qu'un  Wane  de 
moins.' " 

"He  will  not  disappear,"  said  Atherton  grimly.  "I 
think  I  can  promise  so  much.  But  in  going  into  the  coun- 
try for  a  few  days  I  shall  want  a  guide.  Do  you  know  any 
one  trustworthy  whom  you  could  recommend  ?" 

Mr.  Hoffman  smoked  meditatively  for  a  moment  before 
he  replied  : 

"  I  will  speak  to  one  of  my  servants  to-morrow,  who  may 
be  able  to  obtain  for  you  what  you  want.  He  is  an  Ameri- 
can negro,  with  a  very  low  opinion  of  the  Haytians,  and  he 
may  find  some  Jamaica  or  Turk's  Island  negro,  of  whom 
there  are  a  few  here,  for  your  service.  How  soon  do  you 
want  to  start  on  your  expedition  ?" 

"  As  soon  as  we  can  get  ready." 

"  And  is  your  destination  only  the  old  estate  of  which 
you  have  spoken  ?" 

"  By  no  means.  We  wish  to  see  as  much  of  the  country 
as  possible — taking  in,  of  course,  the  famous  palace  and 
citadel  of  Christophe.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  visiting 
those  places  ?" 

"  None  at  all  in  visiting  the  palace,  but  you  will  need  a 
permit  from  the  general  commanding  this  department  to 
enable  you  to  enter  the  citadel. " 

"  I  thought  it  was  in  ruins  ?" 

"  So  it  is — partially,  at  least.     But,  all  the  same,  no  for- 


132  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

eigner  is  allowed  to  enter  it  without  a  permit.  If  you  wish 
to  go  there,  and  it  is  decidedly  worth  your  while  to  do  so, 
we  will  apply  for  a  permit  to-morrow." 

"  By  all  means,  if  necessary.  How  many  days  are  re- 
quired for  the  excursion  ?" 

"  Not  more  than  two.  That  is  the  time  usually  occupied 
in  going  and  returning,  and  seeing  the  palace  and  fort.'* 

"  I  shall  take  more  time.  There  is  no  need  for  haste, 
and  we  will  visit  my  friend's  family  estate  en  route" 

"  Is  it  situated  near  here  ?" 

'  "  It  is  in  the  Plaine  du  Nord.     That  is  near  here,  is  it 
not  ?" 

"  Very  near.  Passing  around  that  great  mountain  yon- 
der, you  soon  enter  upon  it.  It  is  a  magnificant  plain, 
covered  with  the  ruins  of  old  estates  ;  and,  if  it  were  in 
the  hands  of  any  other  people  than  these,  would  be  again 
the  wonder  of  the  world  for  its  fertility.  Does  Mr.  de  Mar- 
sillac  know  the  exact  situation  of  his  family  place  ?" 

"  Exactly  enough  for  all  practical  purposes.  I  think  we 
shall  be  able  to  locate  it  without  difficulty.  I  shall  also 
take  a  camera  with  me  ;  for  I  wish  to  obtain  a  number  of 
photographs,  and  I  have  an  idea  of  doing  a  little  prospect- 
ing in  the  hills.  This  country  should  abound  in  minerals  ; 
and  yet,  I  believe,  there  has  never  been  any  attempt  to  pros- 
pect it." 

"  It  has  never  been  in  a  condition— at  least,  for  a  cen- 
tury past — to  make  prospecting  possible,  or  its  results  (if 
any  were  found)  very  valuable,"  said  Mr.  Hoffman  dryly. 
"  But  I  don't  think  that  even  the  Spaniards  ever  looked 
here  for  gold.  The  mines  they  worked  were  all  in  the 
Dominican  mountains." 

"  Gold  is  not  the  only  valuable  mineral,"  said  Atherton. 
• '  But  what  I  chiefly  wish  to  gratify  is  a  scientific  curiosity 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  133 

by  finding  what  the  hills  contain.  Therefore  I  shall  take 
with  me  a  geological  equipment — hammer,  pick,  and 
shovel.  I  presume  there  will  be  no  objection  to  my  explor- 
ing a  little  in  this  manner  ?' ' 

"  There  is  no  telling  to  what  these  people  will  object," 
was  the  discouraging  reply.  "  I  think  that  if  I  were  going 
to  attempt  anything  of  the  kind,  I  should  carefully  avoid 
opposition,  by  prospecting  only  in  a  quiet  place  and  to  a 
limited  extent." 

"  I  think  I  can  promise  that  my  prospecting  will  be  to  a 
very  limited  extent,  and  in  a  very  quiet  place,"  said  Ather- 
ton,  smiling.  "  I  can  obtain  the  necessary  tools  here,  I 
suppose  ?" 

' '  I  will  obtain  them  for  you.  It  will  excite  no  attention 
for  me  to  do  so,  but  a  stranger  is  always  an  object  of  atten- 
tion and  suspicion.  I  must  warn  you,  however,  that  you 
will  not  find  any  accommodation  in  the  country.  You  can 
get  a  night's  lodging  at  Milot — the  village  of  the  palace  of 
Sans  Souci — but  I  doubt  if  it  will  be  of  a  nature  to  tempt 
you  to  remain  there  longer  than  one  night." 

"  I  shall  not  even  ask  for  that.  I  intend  taking  with 
me  a  camping  outfit.  In  expectation  of  such  excursions — 
for  I  have  come  to  the  West  Indies  to  spend  some  time-Hf[ 
have  a  light  tent  and  several  hammocks.  My  servant  is 
also  experienced  in  camping.  He  spent  last  summer  with 
me  on  a  hunting  tour  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  We  will 
take  provisions  with  us,  and  ask  no  accommodation  from 
the  people  of  the  country." 

"  A  very  good  plan,"  said  Mr.  Hoffman  approvingly. 
"  Well,  I  will  do  what  I  can  for  you  ;  and  I  hope" — with 
a  rather  doubtful  accent — "  that  you  may  not  get  into  any 
difficulties.  It  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  that  it  is  very 
easy  to  get  into  difficulties  in  Hayti." 


134  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  I  shall  bear  it  in  mind,"  answered  Atherton,  amused 
at  the  evident  solicitude  of  the  speaker  lest  he  himself 
might  be  involved  in  the  difficulties  which  he  feared  for 
these  rash  strangers. 

The  more  rash  of  the  two  strangers — that  one  the  ex- 
tent of  whose  rashness  was  indeed  only  gauged  by  some 
anxious  hearts  far  away — waa  still  gazing  out  over  the 
shadow-haunted  bay  and  shores,  when  a  little  later  Ather- 
ton came  up  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

Now,  as  more  than  once  before,  he  was  struck  by  the 
manner  in  which  the  boy  shrank  from  anything  like  per- 
sonal contact.  He  drew  the  shoulder  abruptly  away  as  he 
turned,  with  a  slight  contraction  of  the  brows,  to  see  who 
had  approached  him. 

"  Did  I  startle  you  ?"  Atherton  asked.  "  You  must 
have  been  very  much  absorbed  in  your  thoughts." 

"  So  I  was,"  the  other  answered.  "  For  the  moment  I 
was  at  home,  thinking  of  my  people  and  of  all  that  has 
brought  me  here,  upon  what  seems  to  you  so  wild  a  ven- 
ture." 

"  It  is  beginning  to  lose  its  wild  character  as  one  comes 
down  to  practical  details,"  said  Atherton,  drawing  forward 
a  large  bamboo  chair  and  settling  himself  comfortably.  "  I 
have  just  been  discussing  these  details  with  our  host,  and 
we  have  pretty  well  arranged  them.  I  came  for  you  to  talk 
matters  over  a  little  further  ;  but  just  now  he  is  engaged 
with  a  visitor,  so  we'll  lounge  here  and  wait  his  leisure. 
Meanwhile  I'll  light  another  cigar — you  don't  smoke,  sensi- 
ble boy  ! — and  you  shall  tell  me  something  about  your  peo- 
ple. I  fancy  that  your  sisters  must  be  very  attractive." 

:<  Why  do  you  think  so  ?"  asked  the  other,  with  surprise. 

"Don't  be  too   much  flattered  when  I  say  because  I 


THE   MAN"    OF   THE    FAMILY.  135 

judge  of  them  by  yourself.  It  is  impossible  not  to  fancy 
that  the  qualities  which  render  you  an  uncommonly  attrac- 
tive boy  must  exist  in  an  accentuated  degree  in  them." 

"  And  you  are  quite  right  in  fancying  so,"  was  the  quick 
reply.  "  Any  attractive  qualities  that  I  may  possess  cer- 
tainly do  exist  in  a  very  accentuated  degree  in  my  sisters — 
at  least,  in  one  of  them.  No  one  could  be  more  attractive 
than  my  sister  Diane." 

"  Diane  !"  repeated  Atherton.  "  What  a  charming 
name — Diane  de  Marsillac  !  It  suggests  some  court  beauty 
of  old  France." 

"  And  that  is  what  Diane  looks  like  !"  cried  the  boy. 
"  Everybody  says  so  ;  and,  in  fact,  one  can  see  for  one's 
self  how  much  she  is  like  the  pictures  of  the  famous  beau- 
ties of  the  time  of  Louis  Quatorze  and  Louis  Quinze.  You 
might  think  her  one  of  them  restored  to  life — and  there  is 
not  one  more  beautiful  than  herself." 

"  You  are  more  enthusiastic  than  brothers  usually  are 
over  the  charms  of  a  sister,"  observed  Atherton,  amused 
and  interested.  "  She  must  be  very  fascinating,  this  fair 
Diane." 

"  She  is  that  above  all,"  was  the  serious  answer.  "  She 
fascinates  every  one — not  a  special  class,  like  some  women, 
but  everybody.  Young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  black  and 
white,  there  is  not  any  one  who  knows  her  and  who  does 
not  love  Diane.  And  that,"  the  speaker  added,  half  un- 
consciously and  in  a  changed  tone,  "  is  her  misfortune." 

"  Why  ?"  inquired  Atherton,  surprised  and  yet  more 
interested  by  the  thrill  of  emotion  which  had  suddenly 
come  ir;to  the  expressive  voice. 

"  Because  there  is  a  love,  if  one  can  call  it  love,  which 
is  more  cruel  than  hate,"  was  the  unexpectedly  passionate 
reply,  "  a  love  more  to  be  dreaded  than  death  ;  for  it  is 


136  THE   MAtf   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

more  ruthless,  more  unsparing.  This  love  it  has  been  the 
fate  of  my  poor  Diane  to  inspire  ;  and  she  will  be  sacrificed 
to  it  unless  I — I  alone — can  save  her." 

"  Pray  tell  me  what  you  mean,"  said  Atherton,  suddenly 
sitting  upright  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of  such  interest  aa 
demanded  response. 

And  the  voice,  with  its  thrilling  inflections  of  passion 
and  pathos,  told  him.  Loneliness  and  the  deep  human  need 
of  sympathy  overpowered  with  the  speaker  all  considera- 
tions of  prudence  ;  and  so,  here  in  distant  Hayti,  Atherton 
heard  the  story  of  the  home  on  the  Bayou  Teche,  and  of 
all  that  had  brought  the  descendant  of  Henri  de  Marsillac 
to  seek  the  wealth  which  the  latter  had  striven  to  save. 

Whatever  was  most  sympathetic,  most  generous,  and,  it 
may  be  added,  most  chivalrous  in  the  nature  of  the  listener 
stirred  at  the  recital  as  he  listened  ;  and  he  said  to  himself 
that  the  whim  which  had  led  him  to  break  off  his  voyage 
to  accompany  this  lad  on  his  adventure  had  been  well  fol- 
lowed. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  told  me  this,"  he  said 
presently.  "  If  I  was  anxious  to  help  you  before,  I  am 
much  more  anxious  now.  "With  such  a  motive  I  do  not 
wonder  you  have  crossed  the  sea  and  are  ready  to  encounter 
any  risks  to  seek  what  is  yours — and  theirs.  And  we  will 
find  it,  never  fear  for  that  !  Your  Diane  has  gained  an- 
other champion.  Time,  labor,  money — we  will  spend  them 
like  water,  but  she  shall  have  her  ransom.  I  pledge  myself 
to  that." 

Even  in  the  dim  light  he  could  see  that  De  Marsillac 
looked  at  him  with  glowing  eyes,  and  that  for  the  first 
time,  of  his  own  motion,  he  extended  his  hand. 

"  If  we  succeed  or  if  we  fail,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  ex- 
ceeding sweetness,  "  I  can  never  thank  you  more  than  1 


THE   MAtf   OF   THE    FAMILY.  137 

thank  you  now  for  the  aid  without  which,  as  I  clearly  per- 
ceive, I  could  do  nothing." 

"  But,  as  it  is,  we  will  together  do  every  thing,"  answered 
Atherton  confidently.  "And  when  we  have  succeeded 
you  shall  reward  me  for  whatever  I  have  accomplished  by 
introducing  me  to  this  fair  Diane,  whose  sworn  knight  I 
hereby  constitute  myself/' 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THANKS  to  the  efforts  of  Mr.  Hoffman — who  'showed 
himself  extremely  anxious  to  fulfil  the  injunction  to  speed 
the  parting  guest — and  thanks  yet  more  to  a  lavish  use  of 
that  talisman  which  proves  an  "  open  sesame"  in  all  coun- 
tries, the  third  day  after  their  arrival  at  the  Cape  found 
the  travellers  equipped  and  ready  to  set  forth  upon  their 
journey. 

It  was  a  morning  of  such  radiant  freshness  and  brilliance 
as  only  these  enchanted  tropical  regions  know.  The  warmth 
of  the  sun  was  tempered  by  the  breeze  already  blowing 
from  the  limitless  expanse  of  silver  sea  ;  and  the  wide, 
flashing  bay,  the  distant  sapphire  heights,  and  the  great, 
green  masses  of  the  Mornes  rising  above  the  picturesque 
town,  were  all  bathed  in  an  atmosphere  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite beauty. 

It  was  a  scene  upon  which  the  eyes  of  the  strangers  had 
not  ceased  to  dwell  with  delight  since  their  arrival ;  but 
to-day  they  were  for  the  first  time  heedless  of  its  loveliness 
in  the  excitement  attending  their  departure.  Before  the 
veranda  stood  five  horses — two  passably  good,  three  very 
sorry — on  one  of  the  last  of  which  several  servants  were 


138  THE   MAtf   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

packing  the  camping  outfit  :  tent,  hammocks,  etc.  Gil- 
bert, Atherton's  well-trained  English  servant,  was  direct- 
ing and  assisting  ;  while  the  guide — a  chocolate-colored 
Jamaica  negro  with  an  intelligent  face — stood  by,  offering 
now  and  then  a  word  of  advice.  On  the  veranda  Mr.  Hoff- 
man was  also  bestowing  some  last  words  of  advice  upon  his 
departing  guests,  who  assured  him  of  their  intention  to  be 
as  prudent  and  cautious  as  possible.  Presently  Gilbert,  ap- 
proaching his  master,  announced  that  all  was  in  readiness. 

"  You  are  sure  nothing  is  forgotten  ?"  Atherton  asked. 

"  Nothing,  sir,  I  think." 

"  Then  we  are  off  !  A  thousand  thanks  for  all  your 
kindness,  Mr.  Hoffman  ;  and  I  trust  we  shall  be  able  to  re- 
port on  our  return  a  successful  expedition." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  you  may,"  was  the  cordial  reply. 
"  I'll  expect  you  here,  of  course,  on  your  return." 

Hands  were  shaken  ;  Atherton  and  his  companion  mount- 
ed ;  Gilbert,  with  the  guide  leading  the  pack-horse,  fol- 
lowed ;  and  they  rode  out  of  the  gates  of  the  merchant's 
pretty  residence. 

Their  way  lay  directly  through  the  town,  so  that  they 
had  another  comprehensive  view  of  its  squalor  and  filth  ; 
its  immense  masses  of  overgrown  ruins,  with  their  pictur- 
esque aspect  and  unspeakably  tragic  suggestions  ;  its  flimsy 
houses,  and  its  throng  of  black  faces.  Followed  by  curious 
glances,  they  rode  through  the  unevenly  paved,  crowded 
streets,  by  the  grass-grown,  ruin-encircled  place  where 
stands  the  church  with  its  musical  bells,  and  so  reached  the 
northeastern  gate  of  the  city,  where,  passing  a  barefooted 
sentry,  with  whom  their  guide  exchanged  a  few  words,  they 
found  themselves  in  the  open  country,  upon  a  broad,  hard 
road  which  led  across  saline  flats  and  around  the  base  of  the 
great  mountain  known  as  the  AVestern  Mornc. 


THE   MAtf   OF   THE   FAMILY.  139 


"  Here  we  are  at  last,  fairly  on  our  way  to  the  place  we 
have  come  to  seek,"  said  Atherton  when  the  town  was  left 
behind  them.  "  Of  what  are  you  thinking,  Henri,  that 
you  are  so  silent  ?" 

The  boy  whom  he  addressed  started,  and  turned  towards 
him  a  pair  of  eyes  shining  with  that  excitement  of  the 
mind  which  is  like  a  strong  stimulant  in  its  effect  upon  the 
body. 

"  There  are  so  many  things  of  which  to  think  !"  he  re- 
plied. "  But  just  then  I  was  thinking  of  my  great-great- 
grandfather riding  for  his  life  along  this  road,  carrying  his 
death  wound  with  him,  on  that  awful  night  of  the  first 
outbreak.  I  am  the  first  of  his  blood  to  ride  here  since 
then." 

'  '  A  second  Henri  de  Marsillac  retracing  his  steps,  with 
the  gulf  of  a  century  between  !"  said  Atherton.  "  It  is 
certainly  a  thought  to  stir  many  memories,  especially  when 
one  recollects  why  you  are  here.  I  fancy,  by  the  bye,  that 
the  first  Henri  rode  that  race  with  death  as  much  to  save 
the  secret  which  he  carried  as  to  warn  the  Cape  —  which  by 
that  time  must  have  needed  little  warning  —  and  to  see 
once  more  his  wife  and  children." 

"  Who  can  tell  ?"  the  other  answered.  "  There  were 
reasons  enough,  God  knows  !  But  1  hardly  think  he 
thought  of  that  after  it  was  done.  Events  followed  too 
fast.  He  and  bis  faithful  Jacques  at  once  set  out  to  save 
themselves,  and  carry  the  news  of  the  insurrection  to  the 
Cape  ;  but  they  met  a  party  of  the  insurgent  slaves  and 
were  forced  to  fight.  They  had  firearms  and  fast  horses, 
which  the  others  had  not  ;  so,  although  poor  Jacques  was 
killed,  my  great-great-grandfather  escaped  —  but  with  a 
mortal  wound.  His  horse  was  a  splendid  animal,  and  car- 
ried him  away  from  the  fiends  through  whom  he  had  fought 


140  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

his  way.  Can  you  not  fancy  horse  and  rider  as  they  dashed 
madly  along  this  road — the  man  staunching  the  blood  from 
his  wound  as  best  he  could,  and  praying,  no  doubt,  just  to 
keep  his  senses  and  his  seat  until  he  should  reach  the  lights 
of  the  Cape  that  shone  ahead,  while  hell  itself  seemed  behind 
in  the  burning  glare  which  lighted  the  Plaine  du  Nord 
from  the  plantations  where  the  slaves  were  making  a  carni- 
val of  murder  ?" 

"  One  would  think  you  had  been  with  him,"  said  Ather- 
ton,  "  you  seem  so  well  acquainted  with  every  detail." 

"  Oh,  that  is  not  remarkable  !  1  have  heard  the  story 
so  often,  and  pictured  it  to  myself  in  connection  with  all  I 
read  of  that  time.  In  fact,  I  fancied  it  so  clearly  that  the 
only  strange  thing  now  is  to  find  myself  here,  where  it  hap- 
pened. I  can  hardly  believe  that  that  is  not  a  dream.'' 

"  We  will  prove  it  a  most  solid  reality.  And  if  we  find 
untouched  what  Henri  de  Marsillac  buried  on  that  night,  I 
hope  his  spirit  may  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  it," 

"  I  am  glad  you  don't  hope  that  it  may  be  '  by  to  see, '  " 
said  the  other,  with  a  slight  laugh.  "  Great  as  my  regard 
for  and  interest  in  him  have  always  been,  I  confess  I  could 
not  hope  that.  But  let  us  speak  of  practical  things.  Shall 
we  seek  the  estate  to-day,  or  go  to  the  palace  and  citadel 
first  ?" 

' '  My  plan  is  to  locate  the  estate  to-day — that  is,  find  ex- 
actly where  it  is — and  then  go  to  Milot  for  the  night.  To- 
morrow we  will  see  the  palace  and  citadel,  and  return  ;  and 
to-morrow  night  we  will  spend  in  the  home  of  your  ances- 
tors. How  long  we  will  remain  there  depends  on — circum- 
stances." 

"  Yes,"  in  a  low  voice.  Then  abruptly  :  "  When  do  you 
suppose  we  shall  reach  the  Plaine  du  Nord  ?" 

"Very  soon,  I  think,"  replied  Atherton.     "You  see, 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  141 

we  are  turning  quite  away  from  the  shore  and  rising  to 
higher  ground." 

In  fact,  they  had  already  entered  upon  that  famous  plain. 
The  barren  saline  flats  were  left  behind,  and  on  each  side 
spread  an  expanse  of  rich  but  almost  wholly  uncultivated 
land.  On  the  side  of  the  road — the  ancient  French  high- 
way, still,  after  the  neglect  of  a  century,  in  a  state  of  good 
preservation — grew,  tall  and  thick,  trees  which  had  origi- 
nally been  planted  for  hedges  ;  while  here  and  there  a  plan- 
tation patch  was  the  only  sign  of  cultivation,  although 
large  tracts  were  covered  with  what  seemed  at  first  sight  a 
species  of  scrub  timber,  but  which  proved  to  be  coffee-trees 
left  to  grow  wild.  Soon  also  there  appeared  ruins  of  gate- 
ways and  houses,  all  built  so  durably  of  stone — the  gate- 
posts and  fafades  of  the  dwellings  handsomely  carved — 
that  they  had,  in  a  measure  at  least,  resisted  every  agent  of 
destruction  employed  against  them.  In  what  remained  of 
these  mansions  no  one  dwelt  ;  but  near  the  gates  were  fre- 
quently seen  the  palm-thatched  cabin  of  some  negro  de- 
scendant of  the  slaves  who  once  tilled  these  broad  and  fer- 
tile lands,  now  again  abandoned  to  Nature. 

"  I  am  afraid  the  search  will  be  a  little  difficult,"  said 
Atherton.  "  Who  could  have  imagined  that  the  country- 
seats  of  the  old  proprietors  would  be  so  numerous  !  What  a 
paradise  this  plain  must  have  been  before  the  insurrection  !" 

It  required  indeed  no  great  stretch  of  imagination  to  pic- 
ture its  beauty  and  fertility  when  covered  with  superb 
plantations  and  stately  homes,  its  broad  fields  of  cane  and 
sugar  divided  by  citron  hedges,  and  the  whole  crossed  in 
all  directions  by  roads  so  admirably  constructed  that  their 
stone  bridges,  culverts,  and  ditches  still  remain  after  the 
lapse  of  a  century. 

"A  paradise  indeed!"  echoed  the  other,  glancing  over 


142  THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

its  wide  expanse,  bounded  by  glorious  masses  of  azure 
mountains,  cloud-crested  against  the  deeper  azure  of  the 
sky.  "  And  now  given  up  to  utter  ruin  and  desolation. 
Eh  bien  /"  turning  quickly  to  the  guide,  "do  you  know 
where  is  the  village  of  Grande  Riviere  ?" 

The  man  nodded  assent.  "  Oh,  yes  !"  he  replied. 
"  Grande  Riviere  over  yonder,"  pointing  eastward. 

"  Very  well.  Take  us  towards  Grande  Riviere.  The  es- 
tate we  seek  is  in  that  neighborhood,  about  a  league  distant 
from  the  village. ' ' 

"  But  if  we  go  to  Grande  Riviere,  we  mus'  leave  this 
road  to  Milot — and  road  from  Grande  Riviere  to  Milot 
pretty  bad." 

"  That  does  not  matter.  We  have  all  day  before  us,  and 
we  desire  to  visit  that  place  first." 

It  was  after  they  had,  in  accordance  with  this  direction, 
taken  the  road  leading  from  Petite  Anse  to  Grande  Riviere 
that  the  guide  pointed  out  the  ruins  of  great  estates  on 
every  side.  Riding  slowly,  they  paused  now  and  then  to 
ask  information  of  the  persons  they  met — all  negroes  of  the 
class  of  agricultural  laborers,  if  the  term  can  with  any  pro- 
priety be  applied  to  those  whose  labors  are  so  small.  But 
none  of  these  were  able  or  willing  to  give  the  information 
sought.  Some  merely  stared  when  questioned,  muttered  a 
word  or  two  in  patois,  and  went  on  ;  others  knew  of  such 
a  place,  but  were  very  indefinite  in  their  description  of  the 
locality  where  it  might  be  found. 

"  All  big  fools,  dese  Haytian  niggas  !"  said  the  Jamaican, 
with  scorn,  after  one  of  these  encounters.  "  Bes'  not  talk 
to  'em  any  mo',  sah — look  for  ourselves." 

"We  must  be  near  the  place,  I  think,"  observed  De 
Marsillac,  whose  excitement,  though  restrained,  was  now 
intense.  "  Let  us  ride  on." 


THE   MAH   OF  THE   FAMILY.  143 

On  they  rode,  the  country  around  them  growing  con- 
stantly more  beautiful,  with  wooded  hills  making  a  back- 
ground for  the  rich  plain  ;  and  ever  beyond,  the  blue 
majesty  of  the  great  mountains  enthralling  the  vision. 

Presently,  attracted  by  a  magnificent  avenue  of  royal  palms 
— the  finest  they  had  yet  seen — which  led  from  massive 
gate  pillars  of  stone  towards  the  ruins  of  a  large  house  beau- 
tifully situated  on  the  crest  of  a  gentle  hill,  beyond  which 
rose  bolder  heights,  they  paused  again,  and  Atherton  said  : 

"  This  may  be  the  place  we  seek — at  least  I  think  we 
should  examine  it.  We  may  find  some  one  to  tell  us  what 
estate  it  is,  and  if " 

He  was  stopped  by  an  exclamation  from  his  companion, 
who  pointed  to  one  of  the  stone  pillars  on  which  was  deeply 
carved  the  name  : 

"  Millefleurs." 

Doubt  was  now  at  an  end.  The  situation,  the  name, 
both  indicated  that  the  De  Marsillac  estate  was  found. 
Turning  into  the  gateway,  the  party  rode  along  the  avenue 
of  palms  which,  fully  a  mile  in  length,  crossed  what  had 
once  been  fertile  fields,  but  was  now  a  scrub-covered  waste. 
The  stately  stems  of  the  royal  trees,  exquisitely  tapering, 
rose  on  each  side  to  a  height  of  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  where 
the  great  fronds  of  plumy  foliage  then  sprang  out  and  min- 
gled high  overhead,  forming  a  vista  which  framed  at  its 
termination  the  house  towards  which  it  led.  Viewed  from 
a  distance,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  this  house  a  ruin,  so 
nobly  did  its  walls  still  crown  the  eminence  on  which  they 
stood,  and  so  little  of  decay  was  visible.  But  when  the 
end  of  the  avenue  had  been  reached,  and,  dismounting  be- 
fore a  handsome  flight  of  stone  steps,  where  the  attendants 
were  left  with  the  horses,  the  two  explorers  (for  such  they 


144  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

felt  themselves)  ascended  to  a  broad  terrace,  they  saw  that 
what  stood  before  them  was  indeed  but  a  shell.  Like  the 
ruins  of  the  Cape,  it  was  roofless,  while  great  trees  grew 
within  its  walls,  and  vines  of  many  kinds  rioted  through 
the  empty  doorways  and  windows. 

For  a  moment  both  remained  motionless,  regarding  in 
silence  this  melancholy  wreck  of  a  oncy  stately  and  beauti- 
ful home.  With  Atherton  it  was  but  another  proof  of  the 
complete  destruction  which  had  overwhelmed  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  island  and  doomed  it  to  barbarism  ;  but  to  the 
descendant  of  those  who  had  for  long  years  made  this  the 
seat  of  their  gay,  luxurious  life  and  boundless  hospitality, 
it  had  a  more  personal  and  tragic  significance.  Yet  it  was 
not  so  much  upon  those  days  of  prosperity  that  his  thoughts 
dwelt,  as  upon  the  insistent  recollection  of  that  night  of 
terror  when  the  last  possessor  of  this  house  had  fled  from  it 
— to  meet  his  death  and  leave  a  fortune  lost  behind  him. 
Again  the  thought,  "  Since  then,  I  am  the  first  of  the  race 
to  stand  here  !"  brought  with  it  a  sense  of  something  akin 
to  awe  ;  and,  seeing  how  he  was  wrapped  in  memories  of 
the  past,  Atherton  laid  an  imperative  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Come  !"  he  said.  "  There  will  be  time  enough  for 
dreams  when  we  return.  At  present  we  must  satisfy  our- 
selves without  delay  that  this  is  the  place  we  seek." 

"  The  place  we  seek  !"  repeated  the  other,  quickly  rous- 
ing himself.  "  How  can  there  be  any  doubt  ?  The  name 
— the  situation " 

"  Then  let  us  lose  no  time  in  finding  the  spot  of  which 
we  are  in  search.  Where  shall  we  look  for  it  ?" 

' '  In  the  gardens.  They  must  be  in  the  rear  of  the 
house." 

"  Come,  then,  and  leave  the  ghosts  behind,  at  least  until 
\ve  find  what  we  seek." 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  145 

"  Poor  ghosts  !"  said  the  boy,  with  a  sigh,  as  they 
moved  away. 

"  And  why  '  poor  ghosts  '  ?  They  had  their  day — which 
is  more  than  many  ghosts  can  say — and  enjoyed  it  royally." 

Passing  around  the  ruins  of  the  house,  they  found  a  wil- 
derness which  had  once  plainly  been  a  place  of  delights. 
A  series  of  terraces  cut  out  of  the  hillside  were  covered  by 
a  tangled,  luxuriant  growth  of  such  vegetation  as  only  the 
tropics  can  produce.  Evidently  every  tree,  plant  and  shrub 
which  could  lend  adornment  had  been  brought  thither  ; 
and,  all  restraining  care  long  since  removed,  had,  as  if 
exulting  in  recovered  freedom,  converted  the  beautiful 
pleasure-ground  into  a  very  jungle — an  unimaginable  mass 
of  broad  green  leaves  and  glowing  blossoms  ;  of  twining, 
climbing  parasites,  and  trees  of  magnificent  growth  spread- 
ing thick  crowns  of  foliage.  Great  bushes  of  heliotrope 
filled  the  air  with  fragrance  ;  roses  grown  into  trees  were 
covered  with  cascades  of  blossom  ;  immense  clusters  of  pink 
and  yellow  lilies  flaunted  in  the  sunshine  ;  the  scarlet  hibis- 
cus burned  like  a  flame  ;  bamboos  clashed  their  tall,  feath- 
ery spears  together  ;  ferns  and  palms  of  countless  varieties 
grew  everywhere  ;  and  over  all  myriads  of  vines,  among 
which  the  passion-flower  and  many-hued  convolvuli  were 
conspicuous,  rioted  in  wild  grace. 

To  penetrate  this  overgrown,  enchanting  wilderness  ap- 
peared at  first  glance  almost  impossible  ;  but  closer  inspec- 
tion revealed  the  fact  that  what  had  formerly  been  broad 
walks  and  rose-lined  avenues  were  not  even  yet  wholly  im- 
passable ;  and  the  two  companions,  making  their  way 
wherever  it  was  possible  to  do  so,  found  everywhere  evi- 
dences of  the  beauty  and  luxury  with  which  the  old  pos- 
sessors had  surrounded  themselves.  Balustrades  and  vases 
wrought  in  stone  still  held  their  places  ;  while  here  and 


146  THE   MAtf   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

there  were  the  empty  basins  of  fountains  once  filled  with 
crystal  water  brought  from  the  neighboring  hills  ;  water 
that  also  fed  a  great  swimming-bath  in  a  spot  so  pictu- 
resquely secluded  that  Diana  and  her  nymphs  might  have 
sported  in  it.  But,  look  where  they  would  amid  all  this 
wild  luxuriance  of  loveliness,  they  failed  to  find  a  sun-dial 
within  a  circle,  so  completely  had  the  rampant  vegeta- 
tion obliterated  all  but  a  few  demarcations  of  the 
grounds. 

"  One  thing  only  is  certain,"  said  De  Marsillac,  when, 
disappointed,  they  finally  returned  to  the  first  terrace,  from 
whence  they  overlooked  all  that  lay  below  :  "  the  spot  we 
seek  is  on  the  second  terrace.  '  On  the  second  terrace 
of  the  garden,  at  the  east  side  of  the  sun-dial  which  stands 
in  the  circle  containing  the  statue  of  the  nymph  ' — that  is 
what  Henri  de  Marsillac  wrote." 

"  It  is  explicit,"  replied  Atherton.  "  A  circle — a  sun- 
dial— a  statue.  We  should  be  able  to  find  those  things, 
for  the  place  seems  only  ruined  and  abandoned  :  nothing 
apparently  has  been  taken  away.  I  should  judge  that  it 
has  never  been  occupied  since  Henri  de  Marsillac  left  it ; 
which  makes  me  sanguine  that,  when  we  discover  the  indi- 
cated place,  we  shall  find  what  he  buried  untouched." 

Evidently  his  companion  was  also  sanguine.  Hope  had 
again  taken  possession  of  him  like  a  flame,  had  lighted  a 
scarlet  flush  on  his  cheek  and  wakened  a  shining  glow  in 
the  brown  eyes.  He  did  not  answer  immediately,  but  stood, 
studying  with  eager  intentness  every  feature  of  the  scene 
below.  Suddenly  he  pointed  to  where  a  large  group  of 
citron-trees  rose  out  of  a  mass  of  lower  verdure  on  the  sec- 
ond terrace. 

"  Does  it  not  seem  to  you  that  those  trees  form  a  cir- 
cle?" he  asked.  "  It  looks  to  me  as  if  they  have  grown 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  147 

up  from  what  was  originally  a  hedge.  If  so,  that  may  be 
the  place.  Let  us  go  to  it." 

Without  waiting  reply,  he  ran  down  the  stone  steps 
which,  still  in  a  state  of  perfect  preservation,  led  from  one 
terrace  to  another,  and  began  breaking  a  way  through  the 
dense  growth  that  intervened  between  himself  and  the 
citron- trees.  Atherton  followed  ;  and,  after  a  few  minutes 
of  difficult  work  which  made  the  latter  wish  for  a  hatchet, 
they  reached  the  group,  and  found  that,  as  the  boy  had 
divined,  they  had  indeed  grown  up  out  of  what  was  once  a 
hedge,  much  of  which  still  remained  in  the  form  of  tall 
bushes.  Forcing  a  passage  through  these,  they  entered  a 
circle  so  completely  enclosed  by  its  wall  of  tall,  green 
foliage,  so  secluded,  and  so  wrapped  in  the  deep  stillness 
that  comes  from  the  absence  of  all  signs  of  human  life,  that 
it  was  like  a  spot  enchanted.  The  same  thought  struck 
both,  as  they  looked  around.  Within  this  charmed  and, 
as  it  were,  sentinelled  space  any  operations  might  be  con- 
ducted with  impunity  from  observation.  A  better  place 
for  such  work  as  they  had  to  do  could  not  be  imagined. 
But  was  it  the  place  they  sought  ? 

Impoccible  at  first  to  say.  The  whole  interior  of  the  cir- 
cle was  overgrown  with  the  same  luxuriant  vegetation  which 
existed  elsewhere,  covering  the  space  so  entirely  that  what 
else  it  contained  was  purely  a  matter  of  conjecture.  Only 
one  fact  was  plain — no  statue  stood  there.  If  the  other 
silent  witness  for  which  they  looked,  if  the  sun-dial  was 
also  missing,  then  one  of  two  things  was  certain  :  either 
this  was  not  the  circle  sought,  not  the  place  where  Henri 
de  Marsillac  and  his  servant  had  buried  the  money  and 
jewels,  or  else  the  objects  which  marked  it  had  been  re- 
moved. They  looked  at  each  other  with  the  same  appre- 
hension. 


148  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  "We  have  a  circle,  but  everything  else  seems  lacking," 
said  Atherton.  "  I  fear  this  is  not  the  place." 

"  We  cannot  decide  yet,"  answered  the  other.  "  I  be- 
lieve that  it  is  the  place." 

"  Then  where  are  the  sun-dial  and  the  statue  ?" 

"  We  do  not  care  where  the  statue  may  be,  if  we  can  find 
the  sun-dial.  That  alone  is  necessary.  The  other  might 
be  overthrown,  broken,  carried  away  ;  but  no  one  is  likely 
to  carry  away  a  sun-dial.  Where  would  it  be  situated  ? 
Ah,  how  stupid  I  am  !  In  the  centre  of  the  circle,  of 
course.  There  we  must  look  for  it." 

Again  waiting  for  no  reply,  he  plunged  into  the  tangled 
mass  of  plants  and  vines  and  made  his  way  towards 
the  centre.  Reaching  it  after  some  difficulty,  he 
paused  and  glanced  up  at  Atherton,  who  had  followed 
closely. 

' '  Are  we  exactly  in  the  centre  now  ?' '  he  asked. 

"  Exactly  enough,"  Atherton  replied,  beating  down  the 
riotous  growth  around  them  with  a  stick  which  he  carried. 
"  And  I  see  no  sign  of  a  sun-dial." 

"  How  can  you  tell  ?"  cried  the  boy,  in  a  sharp,  nervoii* 
tone.  "  It — it  must  be  here  !" 

He  moved  a  few  paces  as  he  spoke — and  suddenly  his 
foot  struck  against  something  buried  in  the  luxuriant  ver- 
dure ;  and,  stumbling,  he  almost  fell.  Atherton  caught 
his  arm  ;  but  he  drew  it  quickly  away,  and  with  a  cry  fell 
upon  his  knees. 

"  It  is  here  ! — it  is  here  !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sob  of 
passionate  excitement  and  relief.  "  I  have  my  hands  upon 
it— oh,  thank  God  !" 

Other  hands  were  upon  it  also  the  next  moment — hands 
which  paid  no  heed  to  thorns  and  briars  as  they  tore  away 
the  closely  matted  vegetation  covering  that  which,  once 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  14fl 

cleared,  revealed  itself  as  indeed  the  old  sun-dial  beside 
which  Henri  de  Marsillac  had  buried  his  treasures. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  No,"  said  Atherton  half  an  hour  later,  "  it  will  not 
do  to  alter  our  plans.  We  must  go  on  to  Sans  Souci  and 
the  citadel,  in  order  to  support  our  character  of  sight-see- 
ing travellers." 

There  was  a  mutinous  light  in  the  brown  eyes  that  looked 
up  at  him.  The  pedestal  on  which  the  statue  of  the 
nymph  erstwhile  stood  had  been  found  on  one  side  of  the 
circle  ;  but  its  present  occupant,  instead  of  the  nymph,  was 
the  slender  figure  of  the  boy.  His  attitude  as  he  sat  care- 
lessly on  the  block  of  stone  had,  in  these  sylvan  surround- 
ings, a  suggestion  of  faun-like  grace  ;  while  his  face,  from 
which  the  hat  was  pushed  back,  with  its  flush  of  excite- 
ment, its  shining  eyes,  and  damp,  clustering  curls,  was 
brilliantly  handsome  as  he  lifted  it  towards  Atherton,  who 
stood  beside  him. 

"  Why  should  we  support  a  character  in  which  nobody  is 
interested  ?"  he  asked,  with  some  impatience.  "  Who  has 
noticed  us  ?  Who  will  care  whether  we  are  sight-seeing 
travellers  or — or  anything  else  ?" 

"  Let  us  once  give  reason  for  the  suspicion  that  we  are 
anything  else,  especially  seekers  of  buried  valuables,  and  I 
fear  we  should  excite  an  interest  far  too  lively  for  our  com- 
fort or  perhaps  our  safety,"  Atherton  answered.  "  We 
must  conduct  this  affair  with  every  precaution  that  pru- 
dence can  suggest.  And  although  I  grant  that  it  is  hard, 
having  found  the  place  of  the  treasure,  not  to  assure  our- 


150  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

selves  at  once  that  it  is  there,  still  it  is  but  a  short  time 
that  we  have  to  wait  for  the  assurance  ;  and  our  safety  de- 
pends on  our  exercising  due  discretion." 

"How  can  you  tell,"  demanded  the  boy,  "that  while 
we  are  gone  it  may  not  be  discovered " 

"After  having  remained  undiscovered  for  a  century? 
Ask  your  common  sense  if  that  is  possible. ' ' 

"  Or  we  might  be  killed  by  some  accident,  and  never  re- 
turn ;  that  is  possible,  you  must  admit." 

"  Possible,  but  not  very  probable,  I  hope.  I  am  sorry 
to  thwart  your  wishes,  but  my  judgment  tells  me  that  it  is 
necessary  for  the  success  of  our  plans  that  the  original  pro- 
gramme should  be  carried  out.  We  must  go  on." 

"But  if  I  insist  upon  staying?"  said  the  boy  passion- 
ately. "  After  all,  it  is  /  who  have  come  here  to  seek  what 
is  buried  in  this  spot,  and  it  is  on  my  success  that  every- 
thing depends." 

Atherton  felt  himself  growing  angry.  He  did  not  take 
into  consideration  the  intense  excitement  which  possessed 
the  speaker  ;  nor  how  hard  it  was,  in  the  face  of  long  ex- 
pectation wrought  to  battling  hope  and  fear,  to  turn  away 
still  in  suspense,  knowing  as  little  as  he  had  known  in  dis- 
tant Louisiana  whether  or  not  Henri  de  Marsillac's  hidden 
treasures  did  or  did  not  lie  untouched  beside  the  old  sun- 
diaL  He  only  perceived  an  unreasonable  obstinacy  and 
folly,  as  well  as  forgetfulness  of  all  his  efforts  to  make  suc- 
cess possible. 

"  Very  true/'  he  replied  coldly.  "It  is  your  interests 
alone  which  are  at  stake  in  this  matter  ;  and  if  you  choose 
to  risk  them,  I  have  no  right  to  prevent  you  from  doing  so. 
Stay  if  you  like.  I  fancied  you  something  more  than  a 
foolish  child  ready  to  throw  away  everything  rather  than 
restrain  impatience  ;  but  that,  it  seems,  is  what  you  are." 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  151 

He  turned  and  walked  away,  leaving  behind  him  on  the 
pedestal  of  the  nymph  a  very  crestfallen  person.  To  have 
full  liberty  accorded  to  do  that  which  is  unwise  or  wrong 
is  with  some  natures  the  surest  means  of  rousing  reflection, 
awakening  conscience,  and  preventing  such  action.  So  it 
was  now  with  De  Marsillac.  Thus  suddenly  granted  what 
he  asked,  shame  overtook  him.  He  had  no  thought  of  re- 
senting Atherton's  last  words  ;  he  was  only  struck  with  a 
deep  sense  of  his  own  ungrateful  perversity  displayed 
towards  one  who  had  done  and  was  doing  so  much  for 
him  ;  and,  springing  from  his  seat,  he  followed  the 
tall  figure  still  striding  away.  In  his  eagerness  to  make 
amends  for  the  folly  which  had  wounded  his  friend,  it 
hardly  cost  him  a  pang  to  turn  his  back  upon  the  sun- 
dial. 

"Mr.  Atherton  !"  he  cried.  And  then,  as  Atherton 
paused  and  turned,  he  went  on  quickly  :  "  Forgive  me  for 
being  so  obstinate  and  foolish.  I  will  certainly  go  on,  if 
you  think  it  best." 

"lam  sure  it  is  best,"  Atherton  replied.  His  anger 
melted  at  once  at  sight  of  the  contrition  and  appeal  in  the 
beautiful  eyes  uplifted  to  his  own.  What  strange  power 
did  this  lad  possess  to  disarm  him  at  a  word  ?  He  asked 
himself  the  question  with  something  of  wonder,  as  he  laid 
his  hand  on  the  young  shoulder.  "  My  dear  boy,' '  he  add- 
ed, in  his  kindest  tones,  "  do  you  think  I  would  ask  you 
to  go  if  I  did  not  know  what  success  means  to  you,  and 
how  necessary  it  is  to  take  every  precaution  against  fail- 
ure ?  Suspense  is  hard  to  bear — do  you  suppose  I  am  not 
feeling  it  in  sympathy  with  you  ? — but  you  who  have  borne 
it  from  Louisiana  to  Hayti  can  surely  bear  it  from  Mille- 
fleurs  to  La  Ferriere  and  back." 

"  There  is  no  comparison,"  was  the  reply.     "  The  first 


152  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

had  to  be  borne,  but  this — to  have  stood  on  the  spot  and 
yet  not  know " 

"  You  may  know  ;  for,  after  all,  there  is  no  reason  for 
suspense.  We  may  be  sure  that  had  the  spot  ever  been 
disturbed,  the  sun-dial  would  not  be  standing  where  it  is  : 
it  would  have  been  overthrown,  cast  aside.  Those  who  se- 
cured the  treasure  would  never  have  left  it  untouched,  nor 
paused  to  put  it  back  in  its  place." 

"  That  is  true"  (reflectively).  "  The  fact  that  the  sun- 
dial stands  there  is  proof  that  what  lies  beside  it  is  undis- 
turbed. Thank  you  for  the  suggestion.  And  yet — and  yet 
it  makes  me  desire  still  more  to  secure  at  once  what  has 
waited  for  me  so  long." 

"  It  can  wait  a  little  longer.  What  are  twenty- four 
hours  after  a  century  ?" 

"  Nothing,  of  course,"  the  boy  answered.  "But  we — 
that  is  my  family — have  had  so  many  misfortunes  that — 
you  will  think  me  very  superstitious— I  feel  as  if  it  were 
hardly  possible  for  good  fortune  to  come  to  us.  One  grows 
to  feel  that  way,  you  know.  And  so  I  can  never  believe  in 
the  reality  of  what  we  hope  is  buried  there  until  I  see  it. 
And,  if  it  exists,  I  have  a  fear  that  if  I  turn  away  from  it 
now  I  shall  never  be  so  near  it  again." 

"  Come,"  said  Atherton  once  more,  taking  forcible  hold 
of  his  arm  and  leading  him  on.  "  This  is  superstition  in- 
deed ;  and  if  I  listen  to  you  longer,  I  shall  be  foolish  enough 
to  be  moved  by  it.  Let  us  get  away  at  once  !" 

The  sun  was  setting  when  the  travellers,  descending  the 
rocky  hill  above  Milot,  down  which  their  road  wound,  saw 
before  them,  in  the  exquisite  evening  light,  the  beautiful 
valley  like  a  dream  of  Paradise,  covered  with  verdure  and 
dotted  with  cocoa  palms,  its  village  embowered  in  groves  of 
luxuriant  fruit-trees  ;  while  crowning  the  brow  of  a  hill  at 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  153 

its  farther  end  shone  majestically,  against  a  background  of 
verdnre-clad  mountains,  the  yellow  walls  of  the  palace  of 
Sans  Souci. 

"  What  a  picture  !"  cried  Atherton,  reining  in  his  horse. 
"  I  doubt  if  the  world  can  match  it  for  mingled  softness 
and  grandeur.  African  savage  though  he  was,  Christophe 
knew  well  how  to  choose  the  site  of  his  palace.  Nothing 
more  beautiful  could  be  conceived." 

"  Nothing,"  assented  the  boy  beside  him.  "  It  looks 
like  an  ideal  abode  of  peace  ;  yet  one  shudders  to  think 
what  atrocities  it  has  witnessed. ' ' 

"  Do  not  think  of  them.  Nature  forgets,  and  why 
should  not  we  ?  Heaven  !  what  a  fate  it  was  that  con- 
signed this  island  into  such  hands  !  If  it  were  any  other 
land  one  would  be  tempted  to  make  one's  home  forever  in 
such  a  spot  as  this. " 

"  Beg  pardon,  sah  !"  said  the  guide  ;  "  but  it'll  be  dark 
in  a  few  minutes,  and  we  better  go  on  to  Milot  and 
find  lodgin'  'fore  night." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  we  could  find  any  lodging  in 
that  village  fit  for  our  occupation  ?"  asked  Atherton. 

"  Schoolmaster,  sah,  got  pretty  good  house.  He  take 
you  in." 

"  We  will  not  trouble  him.  We  have  brought  a  tent  and 
hammocks,  and  intend  to  camp  in  some  pleasant  place  out- 
side the  village." 

The  man  glanced  at  the  great,  furrowed  mountains, 
above  which  rested  dark  masses  of  cloud  that  the  sunset 
was  gilding  with  glorious,  coppery  gold. 

"  Tent  bery  good  when  we  got  nuffin  else,  sah,"  he 
remonstrated  ;  "  but  house  better  to-night.  See  big  clouds 
yonder?  Sure  rain  'fore  mornin'." 

So  into  the  village  of  palm-thatched  houses,  sheltered 


154  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

under  great,  spreading  banana,  guava,  and  mango  trees, 
they  rode  ;  black  faces  looking  at  them  on  every  side, 
though  with  less  curiosity  than  would  have  been  displayed 
in  any  other  country  village  ;  for  of  the  few  travellers  who 
come  to  Hayti  all  go  to  Sans  Souci  and  the  citadel,  so  that 
the  people  of  Milot  are  more  acquainted  with  the  appear- 
ance of  strangers  than  any  others  outside  the  seaport  towns. 

The  schoolmaster  proved  to  be  a  perfectly  black  man, 
but  speaking  pure  French.  He  put  his  house  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  visitors  with  a  courtesy  which  left  nothing  to 
be  desired — in  that  respect  at  least,  though  much  might 
have  been  desired  in  others.  Although  the  best  in  the  vil- 
lage, it  was  little  more  than  a  hut ;  and  it  was  necessary, 
in  order  to  secure  a  night's  rest,  to  hang  the  hammocks 
they  had  wisely  brought. 

They  were  repaid,  however,  for  any  discomfort,  not  only 
by  the  fact  that  the  rain  came  down  in  pouring  torrents, 
from  which  their  tent  would  have  proved  but  an  ineffectual 
shelter,  but  also  by  the  discovery  that  their  host  was  an 
educated  and  intelligent  man,  from  whom  it  was  possible 
to  obtain  much  information.  He  spoke  with  reserve  upon 
the  present  condition  and  government  of  Hayti,  nor  did 
they  press  him  to  expand  upon  that  point  ;  but  of  the  past, 
of  the  recollections  and  traditions  still  existing  in  this  spot 
of  the  reign  of  the  black  King  Christophe,  he  talked  freely 
and  interestingly.  It  was  Atherton  who  presently  made  a 
diversion  of  topic. 

"These  mountains  ought  to  contain  mineral  wealth," 
he  remarked,  "  since  the  mountains  of  Santo  Domingo 
near  by  are  known  to  abound  in  it.  Has  nothing  of  the 
kind  ever  been  discovered  ?" 

The  man  shook  his  head.  "  I  think  not,  Monsieur,"  he 
replied.  "  Had  there  been  any  mines,  Christophe  would 


THE   MAN"    OF   THE   FAMILY.  155 

have  had  them  worked,  though  it  had  been  necessary  to 
place  an  overseer .  over  every  miner.  You  know  how  he 
forced  the  people  to  cultivate  the  sugar  estates.  Ma  foi  ! 
they  had  never  to  work  so  hard  in  the  days  of  the  old  pro- 
prietors." 

"  But  Christophe  probably  possessed  no  knowledge  of 
mines/'  Atherton  answered.  ' '  I  agree  with  you  that  he 
would  certainly  have  had  them  worked,  had  he  known  of 
their  existence.  I  am  aware  that  this  is  not  supposed  to 
be  a  gold  country  ;  but  there  are  other  minerals  besides 
gold,  some  of  which  it  is  more  than  likely  these  mountains 
contain." 

"  It  may  be  so,  Monsieur.  I  do  not  know.  No  one,  to 
my  knowledge,  has  ever  looked  for  them." 

"  I  have  thought  of  looking  as  we  go  up  into  the  moun- 
tains to  visit  the  citadel.  It  is  not  likely  that  any  one  would 
object?" 

11 1  do  not  see  why  any  one  should  object,  Monsieur," 
was  the  guarded  reply.  "  But  our  people  are  inclined  to 
be  suspicious  of  strangers  ;  and  you  know  that  even  if  you 
found  a  mine  it  would  not  be  possible  for  you  to  own  it." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  and  should  not  expect  to  profit  by 
any  discovery  I  made.  My  curiosity  is  purely  scientific, 
and,  of  course,  I  shall  not  allow  it  to  lead  me  very  far. 
But  these  mountains  offer  a  most  interesting  field  for  ex- 
ploration  " 

'*  Why  do  you  talk  in  this  manner  ?"  interrupted  De 
Marsillac,  speaking  in  English.  "  Do  you  really  think  of 
wasting  time  on  this  pretence  ?' ' 

"  Be  more  guarded,"  replied  Atherton  quietly.  "  One 
never  knows  how  much  of  a  language  presumably  unknown 
might  be  understood.  I  thought  I  explained  to  you  the 
object  I  have  in  this — prospecting." 


156  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  But  I  thought  it  was  to  be  done  after — after " 

"  We  had  accomplished  our  purpose?  You  are  right. 
But  it  may  be  well  to  pick  up  a  few  stones  in  these  moun- 
tains, if  we  can  do  so  without  too  much  delay." 

"  Ah,  pray  let  there  be  no  delay  !  The  pre — the  pro- 
specting is  not  worth  delay." 

"  I  promise  you  that  the  delay,  if  any,  shall  be  so  little 
that  even  your  impatience  will  be  able  to  bear  it  for  the 
sake  of  the  end  in  view  ;  and  that  end  I  will  explain  to  you 
more  fully  to-morrow." 

After  the  rain  of  the  night,  the  morning  was  of  the  most 
exquisite  freshness  and  beauty,  when  the  two  friends — hav- 
ing presented  their  permit  to  visit  the  citadel  to  the  general 
commanding  the  station,  who  graciously  intimated  that 
they  might  proceed — went  to  view  the  ruined  palace  of 
Sans  Souci. 

Imposing  as  it  appeared  from  afar,  they  were  not  pre- 
pared for  the  magnificence  to  which  it  testified  in  the  gran- 
deur and  extent  of  the  buildings,  though  shattered  by 
earthquake  and  destroyed  by  time.  Climbing  the  long 
flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  esplanade,  they  paused  in 
amazement  before  the  palace,  still  majestic  in  its  architec- 
ture and  its  strength,  notwithstanding  that  trees  are  grow- 
ing amid  its  roofless  chambers  and  fringing  its  broken  arch- 
ways ;  still  forming,  as  it  stands  in  its  superbly  command- 
ing situation,  with  the  lovely  valley  at  its  feet  and  the 
noble  heights  of  the  great  mountain  range  behind,  a  lasting 
monument  of  the  wonderful  and  terrible  man  who  erected 
it.  Within,  the  different  apartments  connected  with  his 
story  were  pointed  out  to  them  :  the  throne-room  where  he 
held  his  court,  while  his  trembling  subjects  knelt  before 
him  with  averted  faces  ;  the  ealons,  once  furnished  with 
all  the  luxury  of  Europe  and  hung  with  costly  tapestries  ; 


THE    MAtf   OF   THE    FAMILY.  157 

the  chapel  where — can  it  be  possible  he  ever  prayed  ? — and 
the  room  (now  inaccessible  from  a  falling  stair)  where  he 
ended  his  life  by  his  own  hand  when  the  downfall  of  his 
power  had  come.  On  the  terrace  stands  the  great  caimito, 
or  star-apple-tree,  under  which  he  was  accustomed  to  hold 
audiences  with  his  officers  ;  while  all  around  are  the  ruins 
of  buildings — stables,  storehouses,  arsenals,  barracks,  and 
other  offices —indicative  of  the  busy  throng  of  life  once 
called  into  existence  here  by  a  despotic  will,  and  now  per- 
vaded by  the  silence  of  death. 

"  No  description  prepares  one  for  it,"  said  Atherton,  as, 
forgetting  the  need  for  haste  impressed  upon  them  by  their 
guides,  they  wandered  over  the  wonderful  place.  <k  One 
must  see  it  in  order  to  believe  that  anything  so  amazing 
ever  existed  here." 

"  What  superhuman  energy  he  must  have  possessed,  that 
terrible  Christophe,"  said  De  Marsillac,  "  to  have  accom- 
plished this  and  the  erection  of  the  fortress,  of  which  one 
is  told  such  marvels,  in  the  space  of  fourteen  years — for 
that,  I  believe,  was  the  length  of  his  reign  !" 

"  And  what  a  thirst  for  luxury  and  beauty,  as  well  as 
power,"  added  Atherton.  "  Here,  in  his  ruined  palace, 
let  us  at  least  say  this  for  him  :  that  he  alone  of  the  rulers 
of  Hayti  has  done  anything  save  destroy.  Among  them 
all  Christophe  alone  strove  to  create — strove  indeed  with 
the  ignorance  and  boundless  cruelty  of  a  savage,  but  with  a 
fierce  genius,  an  indomitable  will,  and  a  blind  groping 
towards  civilization,  from  which  one  cannot  withhold  a 
certain  tribute  of  admiration.  He  seems  to  me  something 
of  a  black  Peter  the  Great — at  least,  the  strong  desire  of 
each  was  the  same  :  to  raise  a  barbarous  people  at  once  to  a 
state  of  civilization." 

"  The  comparison   is  most  unflattering   to   Peter  the 


158  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

Great,"  replied  De  Marsillac,  "  and  I  think  most  unde- 
served by  Christophe — but  here  comes  George  to  remon- 
strate again  on  our  delay. n 

The  guide  was  this  time  so  pressing  in  his  representa 
tions  of  the  necessity  for  reaching  the  citadel  before  thj 
heat  of  the  day  that  he  succeeded  in  his  object  of  drawing 
them  away  from  this  place  of  beautiful  desolation  and 
tragic  memories,  and  starting  without  further  delay  upon 
the  ride  to  the  fortress  of  La  Ferriere. 

Leaving  Milot,  their  road,  which  soon  became  a  mere 
trail,  led  them  into  the  heart  of  the  giant  hills,  passing  at 
first  through  groves  of  wild  coffee  and  banana  trees  ;  then 
into  the  marvellous  forests  which  cover  these  great  heights  ; 
along  the  bases  and  skirting  the  brinks  of  immense  preci- 
pices ;  growing  steeper  with  every  mile,  but  opening  at 
every  turn  such  enchanting  views  of  land  and  distant  sea 
that  its  difficulties  and  roughness  were  almost  forgotten. 
Wonderful  tropical  growths  of  tree  and  plant  and  vine 
lined  their  way,  and  filled  the  deep  green  chasms  far  below 
them,  where  waters — often  unseen,  then  again  flashing  like 
silver  into  sight — filled  the  solitude  with  their  music  ; 
while  over  the  broken  masses  of  verdure-clad  heights  the 
gaze  passed  to  rest  on  fairy  valleys,  and  then  on  the  blue 
plain  stretching  to  the  glittering  azure  of  the  bluer  sea. 

At  the  end  of  two  hours  they  were  thousands  of  feet 
above  that  sea,  far  in  the  bosom  of  the  mountains,  remote 
from  all  signs  of  human  life,  in  a  region  full  only  of  the 
wildest  grandeur  and  most  infinite  loveliness  of  Nature. 
And  as  they  went  onward  yet  onward,  upward  yet  upward, 
their  wonder  grew  at  the  thought  that  into  these  apparent- 
ly inaccessible  wilds,  along  this  steep  and  difficult  way,  the 
material  for  and  ordnance  of  a  fortress  had  been  conveyed 
by  wretched,  toiling  men. 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  159 

"  If  one  could  forget  that,  it  would  be  possible  to  enjoy 
the  beauty  much  more,"  De  Marsillac  said.  "  But  I  can- 
not banish  from  my  mind  the  recollection  of  the  unspeak- 
able sufferings  endured  by  the  unhappy  slaves  of  your  black 
Peter  the  Great,  as  they  dragged  up  these  tremendous  hills 
the  stones  and  mighty  guns  of  his  citadel  above." 

"  Poor  devils  !"  said  Atherton.  "  Dead  as  they  are,  one 
must  pity  them.  But  why  think  of  these  things  since  they 
affect  you  so  much  ?  You  have  the  heart  of  a  woman,  my 
dear  boy  !" 

"  Do  women  alone  compassionate  suffering?"  asked  the 
other,  turning  away  his  face.  But  he  said  no  more  of  the 
victims  of  the  cruel  king. 

There  was  indeed  scant  opportunity  for  conversation,  as 
they  climbed  the  last  and  steepest  ascent  to  the  summit  of 
the  mountain — five  thousand  feet  above  the  sea — which  the 
famous  fortress  crowns,  and  saw  its  mighty  walls  at  last 
towering  above  them. 

Nearly  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  feet  in  thickness,  these  walls  seem  in  their  stupen- 
dous massiveness  to  form  part  of  the  rock  on  which  they 
stand.  Though  rent  in  places  by  earthquake  shocks,  even 
the  earthquake  could  not  cast  them  down  ;  and  they  still 
cover  the  entire  peak  of  the  mountain,  rising  abruptly  from 
the  very  edge  of  its  precipitous  sides.  Words  fail  to  de- 
scribe adequately  this  marvellous  proof  of  what  human 
effort  can  accomplish  under  the  compulsion  of  a  tyrant's  will. 

The  custodian — an  old  and  ragged  negro — having  been 
summoned,  the  visitors  were  admitted  through  a  ponder- 
ous door  into  the  grim  darkness  of  the  tower,  whence  a 
covered  way  led  to  the  deep  fosse,  over  which  they  crossed 
on  a  narrow  plank  (the  drawbridge  having  disappeared)  into 
the  interior  of  the  immense  edifice.  Once  within,  amaze- 


160  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

ment  became,  if  possible,  even  greater.  Through  gallery 
after  gallery,  filled  with  long  rows  of  cannon,  they  threaded 
their  way;  and  as  they  looked  at  the  great  guns— heavy 
fifty-six  and  thirty-six  pounders — which  frowned  through 
every  porthole  and  guarded  every  approach,  they  were 
hardly  able  to  believe  the  undoubted  fact  that  these  stu- 
pendous engines  of  destruction  were  conveyed  to  the  spot  by 
the  unaided  and  almost  incredible  labor  of  man  alone.  Cer- 
tainly no  one  seeing  them,  and  regarding  with  awe  the 
mighty  walls  built  to  receive  them,  can  doubt  the  statement 
that  at  least  thirty  thousand  human  beings  perished  in  the 
construction  of  this  wonderful  fortification. 

As  it  was  his  intention  to  make  this  citadel  a  last  and  im- 
pregnable retreat  in  case  of  attack — especially  from  the 
French,  whose  return  he  always  feared — Christophe  ac- 
cumulated within  it  vast  stores  of  ammunition  and  also  of 
treasure.  In  the  magazines  built  for  the  first  are  still  to 
be  seen  thousands  of  flints  and  balls  ;  while  the  accounts 
given  of  the  immense  quantity  of  gold,  silver  and  precious 
articles  found  here  after  his  death  would  seem  fabulous 
were  not  the  names  on  record  of  those  who  became  rich 
from  the  plunder  of  the  treasure- vaults  of  La  Ferriere. 

Into  these  vaults  the  two  visitors  were  led  ;  and  it  was 
with  the  strange  sensation  of  realizing  a  fairy  tale  that  they 
saw  the  great  old  chests,  clamped  and  bound  with  iron, 
which  had  contained  the  tyrant's  treasures  ;  their  locks 
broken  and  their  lids  wrenched  off,  just  as  they  were  left 
by  the  plunderers  who  sacked  the  castle. 

"  It  was  a  splendid  looting,"  said  Atherton,  looking  at 
his  companion,  as  they  stood — a  strange  group  enough,  in 
the  fitful  light  of  a  torch  which  their  guide  carried — in  the 
dark  vault  beside  the  empty  chests.  "  Thirty  millions  of 
dollars  are  said  to  have  been  found  here.  What  a  com- 


THE   MAN"   OF   THE   FAMILY.  161 

mentary  on  the  wealth  of  the  island,  when  one  considers 
the  regal  luxury  in  which  Christophe  lived  and  the  vast  ex- 
penses he  was  constantly  incurring  !" 

"How  do  you  think  he  accumulated  it?"  asked  De 
Marsillac. 

"  Primarily,  no  doubt,  by  appropriating  the  wealth  of 
the  old  proprietors,  of  which,  in  the  form  of  money,  there 
must  have  been  an  immense  amount ;  and,  secondarily, 
from  the  labors  of  the  people  whom  he  forced  to  cultivate 
the  sugar  estates  by  the  most  cruel  methods.  But  whether 
by  the  one  means  or  the  other,  these  chests,  with  their 
story  of  hidden  riches,  have  a  suggestion  for  us.  Do  you 
know  what  it  is  ?" 

"  Not  a  suggestion  of  robbery,  I  hope  ?" 

"  No.  And  not  a  suggestion,  either,  so  much  as  an  as- 
surance that  there  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  belief  that 
one  of  the  rich  proprietors  of  this  rich  island  might  readily 
have  had  a  very  considerable  amount  of  solid  cash  in  hand 
to  secrete  when  surprised  by  the  insurrection.  Now  we 
will  see  the  empty  tomb  of  the  great  savage  who  built  this 
marvellous  monument  for  himself  ;  and  then  go  up  on  the 
walls  for  the  view,  which  must  be  glorious." 


CHAPTER  X. 

IT  is  doubtful  if  the  earth  can  show  anything  more  beau- 
tiful than  the  view  from  the  walls  of  the  fortress  of  La 
Ferriere.  Magnificent  in  extent — for  the  lofty  mountain 
dominates  all  the  northern  portion  of  the  island — it  is  also 
of  surpassing  loveliness,  from  the  blending  of  land  and  sea 
in  the  vast  picture,  and  the  exquisite  tints  with  which  Na- 


162  THE    MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

ture  robes  herself  in  these  enchanted  regions.  Immediately 
around,  and  far  as  the  gaze  can  sweep  eastward,  are  moun- 
tains and  yet  again  mountains,  broken,  tossed,  confused  ; 
green  near  by,  since  covered  to  their  summits  with  dense 
tropical  verdure,  but  melting  afar  into  the  most  ethereal 
azure.  Among  them  lie  valleys  so  completely  enclosed 
that  it  seems  as  if  no  outlet  were  possible  from  them  ;  and 
deep  gorges  where  the  foot  of  man  has  rarely,  if  ever,  pene- 
trated through  the  luxuriance  of  vegetation  which  fills 
them.  Clouds  abound,  enveloping  the  highest  peaks  in 
soft  white  masses,  sun-kissed  to  dazzling  splendor  ;  piled 
rampart-like  behind  others,  and  yet  again  moving  majes- 
tically across  the  sky,  and  turning  some  great  mountain- 
side to  darkest  purple  with  their  shadows.  But,  noble  as 
are  the  forms  and  masses  of  the  immense  furrowed  heights, 
and  heavenly  as  are  the  tints  in  which  they  drape  them- 
selves as  they  recede,  they  cannot  detain  the  gaze  from  the 
wide  scene  northward — the  long  sweep  of  the  magical  blue 
plain  to  the  city  and  bay  of  the  Cape,  and  the  boundless 
expanse  of  shining  ocean  beyond,  flashing  to  the  horizon. 
On  the  left  the  isle  of  Tortuga,  that  old  home  of  the  buc- 
caneers, rises  picturesquely  out  of  the  waters  which  sur- 
round it ;  while  to  the  right  the  lovely  Bay  of  Manzanilla 
lies  ;  and  farther  still  the  dream-like  heights  of  Monte- 
Christo  stand  between  a  yet  more  dream-like  sea  and  sky. 

And  of  the  air  which  comes  to  these  high  battlements, 
fresh  with  the  salt  freshness  of  the  sea,  fraught  with  the 
thousand  perfumes  of  the  odorous  land,  and  pure  as  the 
heaven  into  which  it  blows,  what  words  can  speak  !  It  is 
delightful  and  invigorating  as  an  elixir  of  life  ;  and  Ather- 
ton,  while  expanding  his  lungs  with  it,  said  to  himself  that 
there  was  healing  in  it  for  any  ill  that  mortal  frame  could 
know  ;  and  that,  whether  by  accident  or  design,  he  had  been 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  1G3 

fed  to  the  land  of  all  lands  which  suited  him  best.  Again 
and  yet  again,  gazing  over  its  outspread  beauty  and  think- 
ing of  its  untold  fertility,  he  marvelled  at  the  fate  which 
had  befallen  this  enchanting  island,  so  rich  in  all  that  Na- 
ture can  give  in  her  most  prodigal  mood. 

"  One  would  like  to  turn  buccaneer  and  reconquer  it/' 
he  said  ;  and  De  Marsillac  smiled. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  that/'  he  answered  ;  "  and  wish- 
ing that  we  were  in  the  robust  days  when  it  would  have 
been  done  without  a  moment's  hesitation." 

"  As  far  as  that  goes,  these  days  are  quite  sufficiently 
robust,"  said  Atherton.  "  We  have  not  developed  any 
very  high  conscience  with  regard  to  the  rights  of  savages 
to  occupy  a  land  they  cannot  develop — as  witness  the 
march  of  Europeans  into  Africa.  Yet  here  is  a  land  more 
beautiful,  more  fruitful  than  any  part  of  the  Dark  Conti- 
nent, left  in  the  hands  of  absolute  savages,  because,  for- 
sooth !  the  nations  are  like  watch-dogs  : 

'**...  snarling  at  each  other's  heels. '  ' 

"  Absolute  savages  indeed  !"  said  the  other.  "  I  won- 
der, by  the  bye,  if  this  terrible  precipice  down  which  we  are 
gazing  is  what  was  called  '  the  Grand  Boucan  '  because  of 
the  vast  number  of  wretched  creatures  whom  Christophe 
had  hurled  over  it  ?  That  was  one  of  his  favorite  modes  of 
execution,  you  know." 

"  What  an  awful  pleasantry — the  Grand  Boucan  !"  ob- 
served Atherton.  "  Yes,  I  fancy  this  must  be  the  place  ; 
for,  sheer  and  steep  as  the  mountain  sides  are  all  around, 
this  is  the  most  sheer  descent  of  all.  A  man  flung  from 
this  wall  would  fall  at  least  a  thousand  feet — probably 
more." 

"  Perhaps   the  bones  of   his  innumerable   victims   are 


164  THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

whitening  down  there  yet,"  said  the  boy,  gazing  as  if  fasci- 
nated into  the  abyss.  Then  suddenly  he  looked  away,  very 
pale.  "  Does  it  not  make  you  dizzy  and  faint  to  gaze  from 
such  a  height  ?"  he  asked  his  companion. 

The  latter  smiled.  "  No,"  he  replied.  "I  have  tested 
my  head  too  often  in  mountain-climbing.  Two  years  ago 
I  ascended  the  Matterhorn.  That  settles  once  for  all  what 
kind  of  a  head  one  has  ;  for  if  it  fails  there  one  does  not 
return  to  tell  the  tale." 

"  But  why  risk  your  life  on  the  steadiness  of  your  head 
— merely  to  climb  a  mountain  ?' ' 

"  Ah  !  that  is  a  question  which  cannot  be  answered  to 
the  satisfaction  of  anybody  who  does  not  know  the  fascina- 
tion of  such  climbing  and  such  danger.  As  for  me,  1  am 
fond  of  exploring  iu  all  forms  ;  and  if  I  am  doomed  to  be 
an  idler,  I  shall  become  a  wanderer  and  endeavor  to  leave 
no  spot  of  the  globe  unseen.  Will  you  wander  with  me  ? 
It  is  thanks  to  you  that  I  am  here  to-day  ;  and  I  think — 
in  fact,  I  am  sure — that  \ve  should  make  good  comrades." 

The  boy  laughed.  "  You  forget,"  he  said,  "  that  I  am 
the  man  of  the  family  at  home.  They  could  not  do  with- 
out me." 

"  I  did  forget  that  important  fact,"  replied  Atherton  ; 
"  although  you  have  told  me  of  it  before.  But  when  you 
have  arranged  the  affair  of  Mademoiselle  Diane,  there  will 
be  nothing  to  detain  you  longer." 

"  On  the  contrary,  there  will  be  everything.  I  attend 
to  the  plantation  ;  I  see  to  all  matters  of  business  ;  I — in 
short,  I  am  necessary  to  them." 

"  Happy  boy  !  To  be  necessary  to  anybody  is  a  great 
privilege  ;  but  when  it  is  to  an  entire  family  of  charming 
women,  the  privilege  becomes  immense." 

"  You   are    laughing  at   me,"  said   the   other  simply. 


THE   MAX   OF   THE   FAMILY.  165 

"  You  think  I  exaggerate  my  own  importance  ;  and  it  is 
not  strange  you  should  think  so,  since  I  look — since  I  am 
so  young.  But  they  would  all  tell  you  the  same  thing  at 
home.  And  now  isn't  it  time  we  were  starting  back  ?  We 
have  seen  all  the  castle  ;  and  if  we  are  to  reach  Millefleurs 
before  night " 

Atherton  glanced  around.  The  group  of  their  attend- 
ants were  at  some  distance,  evidently  listening  while  the 
old  custodian  dilated,  as  his  gestures  showed,  upon  the 
Grand  Boucan  ;  and  the  Jamaica  guide  translated  his  words 
for  the  benefit  of  the  Englishman,  whose  countenance  was 
a  study  of  disgust  and  horror.  The  two  were  thus  left 
quite  alone  together  on  the  high  wall  of  this  strange  cita- 
del, amid  the  solitary  hills. 

"  We  will  start  soon,"  Atherton  then  answered.  "  But 
first  let  me  explain  to  you  more  fully  than  it  seems  I  have 
yet  explained  why  I  think  the  pretence  of  looking  for  min- 
erals necessary.  Stones,  even  if  they  possess  no  real  value, 
are  heavy.  If  I  fill  a  couple  of  sacks,  which  I  have  taken 
the  precaution  to  bring,  with  specimens  picked  up  in  these 
hills,  do  you  not  understand  that  it  is  in  order  to  empty 
them  out  at  Millefleurs — should  we  find  what  we  hope  for 
— and  substitute  for  them  the  gold  which  we  could  not 
otherwise  carry  without  rousing  suspicion  ?" 

"  You  have  thought  of  everything, "said  the  boy  ;  "  and 
I  am  most  ungrateful  to  find  any  fault.  Of  course  you  are 
right,  and  I  understand  now  why  you  talked  of  minerals  to 
the  schoolmaster  at  Milot  last  night." 

"  Believe  me,  we  cannot  take  too  many  precautions  to 
avoid  any  risk  of  suspicion.  If  it  were  once  known  that 
we  were  engaged  in  raising  hidden  treasure,  do  you  think 
you  would  be  allowed  to  retain  even  the  least  part  of  it? 
And  now,  taking  all  these  things  into  consideration,  can 


166  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

you  support  with  philosophy  the  thought  of  spending  an- 
other night  in  Milot  should  we  reach  there  late,  and  not  re- 
turning to  Millefleurs  until  to-morrow  ?" 

11  If.  I  must,  why" — with  a  sigh — "  I  can.  But  is  it 
really  necessary  ?  Can  you  not  merely  pause  on  our  way 
down  long  enough  to  pick  up  some  stones  ?  I  suppose  any 
stones  will  do." 

"  I  should  prefer  some  containing  mineral  in  observable 
quantity,  if  possible  ;  for  I  have  Mr.  Hoffman  to  consider 
as  well  as  the  guide.  These  hills  are  certain  to  contain  de- 
posits of  one  kind  or  another." 

"Well" — with  another  sigh — "you  must  do  what  you 
think  best,  and  I  will  try  to  be  patient.  But  it  will  be 
rather  a  joke  upon  us  if  we  carry  the  stones  to  Millefleurs 
and  do  not  find  the  gold." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  finding  the  gold  ;  but  whether  I 
had  doubt  or  not,  I  should  carry  the  stones,"  Atherton  an- 
swered. "  A  wise  general  does  not  wait  to  load  his  guns 
until  he  is  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy.  Now,  one  last 

look  over  this  scene  of  Paradise,  and  then  allons  /" 
***** 

It  was  an  hour  later,  as  they  were  descending  the  steep 
road  along  which  they  had  ascended  not  more  labo- 
riously, that  Atherton,  who  was  riding  in  front  of  the 
cavalcade,  suddenly  called  a  halt  by  stopping  his  own 
horse. 

"  George,"  he  said,  turning  to  address  the  guide,  "  I  see 
another  trail  here  leading  off  from  ours.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  it  ?" 

"  No,  sah,  nuffin,"  George  answered  decidedly.  "  Neber 
been  anywheres  here  'cept  to  de  citadel." 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  this  probably  leads  ?" 

"  Ober  de  mountain  to  some  valley,  sah,  where  dere's  a 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  167 

village.  Can't  lead  nowheres  else.  Mus'  be  pretty  far  off, 
too,"  he  added. 

"  Well,  I  am  not  interested  in  its  ultimate  destination, 
but  I  am  going  to  follow  it  for  a  short  distance  ;  for  I 
think  it  goes  deeper  into  the  hills  than  ours." 

"  Lord,  sah  !"  remonstrated  the  startled  George.  "  Ain't 
we  deep  'nough  in  de  hills  now  ?  Better  stick  to  de  road  ; 
might  git  los'  in  all  dis  wildness." 

"  How  can  we  possibly  get  lost  if  we  keep  the  trail  ?  All 
we  shall  need  to  do  when  we  want  to  return  is  to  retrace 
our  steps.  Gilbert,  have  you  the  prospecting  tools  ready  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  all  ready,"  replied  Gilbert. 

"  Then  follow  me,  all  of  you.  Henri,  you  have  no  fear 
of  being  lost,  I  suppose  ?  I  merely  want  to  take  a  look  at 
those  hills  over  yonder." 

"Not  the  least  fear,"  De  Marsillac  said  readily  and 
truthfully  enough  ;  for  Atherton's  last  words  to  him  as 
they  mounted  beneath  the  castle  walls  had  been  :  "  Ifc  will 
not  do  to  find  my  mineral  deposit  immediately  on  the  road. 
That,  you  know,  would  be  too  easily  verified.  So  don't  be 
surprised  if  I  lead  you  into  some  less  accessible  spot." 

The  less  accessible  spot  was  to  be  sought  now  ;  and,  with 
an  earnest  hope  that  this  trying  but  indispensable  pretence 
might  soon  be  over,  the  boy  turned  his  horse  into  the 
scarcely  perceptible  trail  which  Atherton's  keen  glance  had 
perceived.  Branching  abruptly  from  their  road,  it  wound 
off  around  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain  in  a  southeast- 
wardly  direction,  and  speedily  plunged  into  an  even  wilder 
region  than  any  they  had  yet  seen.  Giant  heights,  forest 
clad  to  their  crests,  enclosed  them  ;  deep  green  gorges 
opened  below  ;  and,  save  for  the  path  they  were  following, 
there  was  not  a  token  of  man's  presence  in  all  the  solitude 
of  Nature. 


168  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

Continuing  to  wind  around  the  hills  rather  than  descend 
abruptly  like  the  road  they  had  left,  the  trail  led  them  on 
until  it  finally  dipped  to  cross  the  mouth  of  a  deep,  narrow 
ravine,  through  which  a  hidden  stream  flowed  with  much 
sweet  music  of  falling,  tumbling,  rushing  water.  And 
here  Atherton  halted  again. 

"  I  can  find  no  better  place  than  this,"  he  said  to  De 
Marsillac,  who  was  near  him.  "  In  such  canons  one  looks 
for  minerals,  because  the  erosions  of  the  water  have  through 
long  ages  laid  bare  the  secrets  of  the  rocks.  Then  dis- 
mounting, ' '  Gilbert,  give  me  my  hammer. " 

"  Shall  I  come  with  you,  Mr.  Atherton  ?"  asked  the 
man,  as,  dismounting  in  turn,  he  brought  the  implement 
desired. 

"  Yes.  Bring  a  pick  and  the  sacks.  George,  you  will 
stay  here  with  the  horses.  Henri,  what  are  you  about  ?" 

"  Coming  with  you,  of  course,"  the  person  addressed  an- 
swered, as  he  swung  himself  out  of  the  saddle.  "  Do  you 
think  I  have  no  spirit  of  an  explorer  ?" 

Atherton  laughed. 

"  You  can't  be  of  the  least  service,"  he  said  ;  "  and 
you'll  find  it  very  hard  work  to  break  through  this  under- 
growth. But  come  along  if  you  like.  We  shall  follow  up 
the  stream." 

Following  the  stream  proved  to  be  difficult  work,  so 
dense  was  the  growth  along  its  banks  ;  while  overhead 
branches  and  foliage  intertwined  so  closely  that  sunlight 
was  entirely  excluded,  and  a  dim,  green  twilight  reigned. 
The  soil  was  covered  with  a  thick  tangle  of  ferns,  moss,  and 
an  immense  variety  of  plants  for  which  the  strangers  knew 
no  name  ;  interlacing  vines  leaped  from  tree  to  tree,  and 
luxuriant  parasites  filled  every  open  space  ;  while  through 
this  exquisite  world  of  greenery  the  flashing  water  came  in 


THE   MAN   OF    THE   FAMILY.  169 

crystal  pools,  which  mirrored  the  feathery  tendrils  and 
gorgeous  blossoms  drooping  above  them. 

Although  taking  little  interest  in  the  search  for  minerals, 
save  that  of  wishing  it  well  over,  De  Marsillac  was  struck 
by  the  manner  in  which  Atherton  seemed  bent  upon  thor- 
oughly carrying  out  the  form  of  seeking.  Wherever  along 
the  banks  of  the  stream  the  least  outcropping  of  rock  ap- 
peared through  the  luxuriant  vegetation,  he  paused  to  ex- 
amine it ;  and  after  one  or  two  of  these  pauses  seemed  to 
become  as  interested  as  if  the  search  had  been  a  reality  in- 
stead of  a  pretence.  At  least  so  the  observer  said  to  him- 
self, until  at  last,  becoming  weary  of  the  struggle  through 
the  dense  undergrowth,  and  of  a  tramp  which  seemed  lead- 
ing them  farther  and  farther  into  the  wildest  recesses  of 
the  hills  whose  steeply  towering  sides  rose  above  them,  he 
ventured  on  a  remonstrance. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  he  said,  as  they  paused  for  the  fifth 
or  sixth  time  where  aqueous  erosion  had  laid  bare  a  ledge 
of  rock  on  the  side  of  the  stream,  "  that  this  would  serve 
your  purpose  without  going  farther  ?' ' 

Atherton,  who  was  bending  over  the  spot,  breaking  off 
fragments  of  rock  with  the  pick,  looked  up,  somewhat 
flushed  and  breathless. 

"  Without  going  farther  !"  he  repeated,  and  then  he 
laughed.  "  A  curious  thing  has  happened.  Sham  has 
turned  into  earnest.  I  have  found  gold  !" 

"What!  really?" 

"  Yes,  really.  Do  you  know  it  when  you  see  it  ?  Here 
is  a  piece  of  ore  showing  free  gold."  He  drew  from  the 
outside  pocket  of  his  coat  a  small  fragment  of  quartz,  and 
pointed  to  one  or  two  tiny  spots  upon  it.  "  This,"  he 
said,  "is  what  miners  call  'float' — brought  down  the 
stream  from  a  vein  above.  As  certainly  as  we  stand  here, 


170  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

my  dear  boy,  there  is  a  mine — a  genuine  mine — of  gold  in 
these  hills." 

"  It  is  very  strange  that  you  should  have  chanced  upon 
the  signs  of  it,"  said  De  Marsillac,  looking  with  wonder  at 
the  bit  of  ore  which  told  so  much.  "  But  you  are  not 
going  to  search  for  the  mine  itself,  are  you  ?"  he  added 
presently.  "  It  does  not  concern  us." 

"  It  concerns  us  to  have  something  genuine  to  show  for 
our  prospecting,  and  something  astonishing  too.  Gold  has 
never,  I  think,  been  found  before  in  these  Haytian  moun- 
tains. Consequently,  this  is  an  immensely  interesting 
find  ;  and  you  must  bear  with  me  while  I  follow  it  up." 

"  Will  it  be  of  value— to  you  ?" 

"To  me— no,  nor  probably  to  anyone  else.  But  you 
don't  consider  scientific  curiosity.  I  must  find  where  this 
float  has  come  from." 

Further  remonstrance  would  have  been  both  useless  and 
ungracious.  The  boy  sighed — partly  from  weariness,  part- 
ly from  longing  to  turn  his  face  towards  Millefleurs — but 
made  no  remark  ;  and  followed  the  toilsome  ascent  of  the 
gorge,  when  the  speaker,  returning  the  pick  to  Gilbert, 
went  on. 

It  was  perhaps  unfortunate,  at  least  De  Marsillac  thought 
so,  that  Afcherton's  interest  was  stimulated  by  finding  other 
bits  of  float,  as  they  followed  the  stream,  which  led  them 
with  every  step  higher  as  well  as  deeper  among  the  hills  ; 
for  the  spirit  of  a  prospector  was  now  thoroughly  aroused 
in  him,  and  none  the  less  because  cupidity  lent  no  zest  to 
it.  The  find  could  be,  as  he  had  already  remarked,  of  no 
value  to  him ;  nevertheless,  his  interest  was  intensely  ex- 
cited in  tracing  out  this  secret  of  Nature,  which,  hidden 
from  the  eyes  of  other  men  for  centuries,  was  now  revealed 
to  his. 


THE   MAN"   OF   THE   FAMILY.  171 

So  on,  still  on  they  went,  Atherton  growing  more  ab- 
sorbed as  the  scent,  in  hunting  phrase,  grew  warmer  ;  and 
De  Marsillac  more  fatigued  from  the  double  labor  of  forcing 
a  way  through  the  undergrowth  and  of  climbing,  for  they 
were  now  ascending  the  mountain  which  headed  the  gorge. 

And  here — as  Atherton  knew  must  be  the  case — he 
found  at  last  that  which  he  sought.  Cut  by  the  action  of 
the  stream  in  its  downward  course,  the  vein  from  which 
the  float  had  come  was  revealed  on  either  bank — a  distinct- 
ly marked  strata  of  unmistakable  gold-bearing  quartz. 

Atherton  uttered  an  exclamation  as  exultant  as  if  he  had 
been  a  Colorado  miner  seeking  his  fortune,  when  he  saw 
the  ledge  of  stream-washed  and  decomposed  rock. 

"  Eureka !"  he  cried.  "  I  knew  it  must  be  here. 
Henri,  we  have  found  the  mine  !" 


CHAPTER  XI. 

DE  MARSILLAC  was  not  in  a  condition  to  join  in  Ather- 
ton's  exultation.  He  was,  in  fact,  completely  exhausted. 
The  determination  not  to  acknowledge  weariness  had  made 
him  follow  resolutely  on  the  long,  fatiguing  tramp  and 
climb  ;  but  it  afforded  him  no  voice  now  with  which  to 
reply  to  his  companion's  words.  He  could  only  lean  against 
a  tree  breathless,  with  his  heart  beating  painfully. 

"Better  sit  down,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  who,  not  so  ab- 
sorbed as  his  master,  saw  and  pitied  the  boy's  plight. 
"  You  look  quite  done  up.  It's  been  tough  work  getting 
here." 

"  I  forgot  you  were  not  an  old  mountaineer  like  myself," 
said  Atherton,  glancing  round ;  "or  I  shouldn't  have 


172  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

pressed  on  so  fast.     Gilbert,  haven't  you  anything  to  give 
him  ?" 

"I  don't  need  anything,"  the  boy  said,  with  pale  lips. 
"I'm  only— a  little  out  of  breath.  I'll  be  all  right  in  a 
few  minutes." 

"  This'll  put  you  right  quicker,  sir,"  said  Gilbert,  pro 
ducing  a  pocket-flask.     "  I  always  carries  something  of  the 
kind  on  such  hexpeditions.     One  never  knows  what'll  'ap- 
pen,  'specially  in  a  country  as  wild  as  this— for  wilder  I've 
never  seen." 

De  Marsillac  did  not  refuse  the  draught  offered  him,  and 
soon  felt  the  benefit  of  it,  so  that  he  was  able  to  move  for- 
ward and  examine  the  find. 

"  And  this  is  a  gold  mine  !"  he  said,  looking  at  the  seam 
of  quartz  from  which  Atherton  was  knocking  fragments. 

"  This  is  a  gold  mine  !"  the  other  replied,  with  the  note 
of  triumph  still  in  his  voice.  "  Isn't  it  a  remarkable  thing 
that  I  should  have  found  that  piece  of  float,  which  turned 
pretence  into  reality  ?  Now,  if  this  were  only  in  any  other 
country,  you  might  take  from  here  a  fortune  greater  than 
the  one  your  ancestor  lost." 

"  But,  since  no  white  man  can  own  property  in  Hayti,  it 
can  really  be  of  no  benefit  to  us. " 

"  Except  to  serve  our  special  purpose  ;  and  to  give  me 
the  opportunity  to  indulge  in  a  little  vanity,  since  I  have 
had  eyes  where  every  one  else  has  been  blind." 

"  But,  after  all,  what  could  ignorant  negroes  know " 

"  Bah  !  who  talks  of  ignorant  negroes  ?  Where  were 
the  eyes  of  the  buccaneers,  who  were  keen  enough  for  gold 
when  they  found  it  in  other  forms  ?  Where  were  the  eyes 
of  the  French  colonists — of  your  own  Breton  ancestor, 
Monsieur  Henri  ?  As  for  the  Spaniards,  they  were  sent 
by  the  natives  into  the  mountains  eastward  of  this,  so  they 


THE   MAX   OF   THE    FAMILY.  173 

were  not  to  blame.  But  I  know  now  what  I  have  always 
suspected — that  the  gold  crown  which  the  cacique  wore 
who  received  Columbus  so  kindly  when  he  was  shipwrecked 
at  the  Cape,  came  from  a  spot  nearer  home  than  that 
shrewd  gentleman  cared  to  admit." 

"  Do  you  think  it  came  from  this  spot  ?" 

"  From  this  identical  vein  ?  Possibly  not.  But  where 
there  is  one  gold  vein  there  are  others.  Gilbert,  bring  the 
pick  and  knock  off  as  much  of  this  ore  as  possible.  I  wish 
now  that  I  had  brought  George  along,  but  it  was  necessary 
to  leave  some  one  with  the  horses." 

"  You  might  have  left  me,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  am  not 
of  much  use  here." 

"  We'll  make  you  of  use  in  a  moment.  You  shall  fill 
the  sacks." 

But  before  filling  the  sacks  it  was  necessary  to  have  the 
wherewithal  to  fill  them  ;  and,  since  this  was  lacking  until 
the  pick — now  sending  through  the  forest  the  sharp  and 
unaccustomed  click  of  metal  ringing  upon  rock — had  done 
its  work,  the  boy  sat  down  and  watched  with  a  strange 
sense  of  unreality  the  scene  before  him. 

Was  it  a  dream  from  which  he  should  presently  wake,  or 
was  he  really  here,  on  this  high  mountain-side  of  His- 
paniola,  the  vast  tropical  forest  stretching  below  like  a 
green  sea,  and  all  around  the  silent  majesty  of  untrodden 
heights  ;  while  two  men,  whom  three  weeks  before  he  had 
never  seen,  were  digging  at  his  feet  for  the  gold  which  had 
remained  undiscovered  by  Spaniard,  Frenchman,  or  Afri- 
can, though  known,  beyond  doubt,  to  the  original  possess- 
ors of  the  island  ?  If  a  dream,  it  was  certainly  a  fantastic 
one,  and  what  would  be  its  end  ?  He  looked  at  Atherton. 
What  strange  chance  or  fate  was  it  which  had  brought 
across  his  path  this  man,  who  seemed  so  quiet,  yet  was  in 


174  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

fact  so  dominating,  as  his  whole  conduct  of  this  matter 
proved  ?  The  situation  seemed  too  unreal  to  be  anything 
but  a  dream  ;  and  yet 

"  Now,  Henri" — it  was  Atherton's  voice  breaking  on  his 
reverie — ' '  here  is  your  work.  Come  and  fill  the  sacks  with 
this  ore." 

"Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Atherton  !" — Gilbert  stood  up,  ex- 
hausted from  his  prolonged  and  unaccustomed  labor — 
"  but  how  much  of  this  rock  do  you  want  knocked  off?" 

Atherton  measured  with  his  eye  the  pile  collected.  "  Al- 
most as  much  again,  I  suppose,"  he  said.  "  Why  do  you 
ask  ?  Are  you  done  up  ?" 

"  Pretty  much,  sir — not  being  used  to  this  sort  of  work." 

"  It  is  rather  hard  to  be  turned  from  a  valet  into  a  miner 
at  a  moment's  notice,"  said  Atherton  good-humoredly. 
"But  your  recommendation  to  me  has  always  been  that 
you  were  not  an  ordinary  valet.  You've  roughed  it  with 
me  before  this. " 

"  Very  true,  sir  ;  but  not  quite  in  the  line  of  the  present 
work.  As  soon  as  I've  rested  a  bit,  though,  I'll  be  ready 
to  go  on." 

"  I  don't  think,"  continued  Atherton  reflectively,  look- 
ing from  the  man  to  the  considerable  pile  of  ore — accumu- 
lated so  soon  because  the  surface  rock  was  decomposed  and 
therefore  easily  broken — "  that  you'll  be  able  to  carry  much 
more  than  that  amount  down  the  gorge.  You  had,  there- 
fore, better  fill  one  sack  and  take  it  down  ;  remain  with 
the  horses,  and  send  the  guide  up  to  fill  and  take  down  the 
other." 

The  prospect  of  being  relieved  from  miner's  duty  was 
plainly  very  agreeable  to  Gilbert.  He  obeyed  with  alacrity, 
filled  the  sack,  threw  it  over  his  shoulder,  and,  staggering 
somewhat  under  its  weight,  disappeared  in  the  thick  under- 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  175 

growth  as  he  made  his  way  down  the  hillside.  They  heard 
for  some  time  the  sound  of  his  descent,  marked  by  the 
sharp  crack  of  breaking  boughs  ;  then  silence  settled  again 
over  the  wide,  wild  solitude  of  gorge  and  mountains. 

"  It  will  be  some  time  before  he  gets  down  to  the  trail 
and  the  other  fellow  gets  up  here,"  said  Atherton,  as  if 
struck  with  a  sudden  thought.  "  I'll  employ  the  time  in 
following  this  vein  along  the  mountain,  for  it  must  have 
outcroppings.  It  would  be  very  interesting  if  I  should  dis- 
cover some  trace  of  ancient  work.  Are  you  sufficiently 
rested  to  come  with  me  ?"  he  asked  his  companion. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "  Do  you  think  I 
ftm  so  lacking  in  strength  that  a  mere  climb  could  knock 
me  out,  except  for  a  few  minutes  ?" 

"  Well,  I  have  seen  more  apparent  Samsons,"  remarked 
Atherton  with  a  smile;  "although  no  doubt  you  make 
up  in  pluck  and  endurance  what  you  lack  in  muscular 
strength.  Come  along,  then.  But  put  that  flask  lying 
there  on  the  bank  in  your  pocket  :  you  may  need  it  again. " 

"  That  is  not  at  all  likely,"  ignoring  with  a  somewhat 
lofty  air  the  flask,  which  Gilbert  had  neglected  to  replace 
in  his  own  pocket. 

"  Then  /  shall  take  it ;  for  I  am  not  at  all  ashamed  to 
say  that  it  is  within  the  limit  of  possibility  that  I  might 
need  it  myself.  Anybody  is  likely  to  be  knocked  out  by 
a  steep  and  difficult  climb." 

De  Marsillac  made  no  rejoinder,  but  followed  the  speak- 
er as  he  struck  off  from  the  stream  in  a  slanting  direction 
up  the  mountain  ;  explaining  as  he  did  so  that  this  would 
likely  be  the  course  of  the  vein. 

The  result  justified  his  anticipation  ;  for  now  again  he 
discovered  outcroppings  which  would  have  been  hidden 
from  eyes  less  keen  than  his  own.  The  climb  was  very 


17G  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

steep,  the  growth  not  quite  so  dense  as  along  the  stream, 
but  quite  sufficiently  so  to  make  passage  through  it  exceed- 
ingly fatiguing.  Very  little  interested  in  tracing  the 
course  of  a  vein,  however  rich  in  precious  metal,  which 
could  be  of  no  possible  advantage  to  any  human  creature  in 
whom  he  felt  the  least  concern,  the  boy  beguiled  the  ascent 
by  admiration  of  the  marvellous  wealth  of  verdure  around 
them.  Beautiful  tree-ferns — loveliest  of  all  tropical  prod- 
ucts, except  the  royal  palm — met  the  eye  on  all  sides  ;  to- 
gether with  such  effects  of  leaf  and  vine  and  flower,  and 
such  variety  of  orchids,  as  might  have  driven  a  botanist 
wild.  But  presently  he  observed  a  new  and  singular  effect 
— delicate,  fairy-like  wreaths  of  mist  creeping  among  the 
trees  and  enhancing  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  So  exquisite 
were  these  trailing,  lace-like  veils  that  it  was  not  until  they 
suddenly  thickened  that  he  awakened  to  a  sense  of  what 
they  were,  and  called  to  Atherton,  who,  some  distance  in 
advance,  had  eyes  only  for  his  mineral  search  : 

' '  A  cloud  is  settling  over  us.  Had  we  not  better  re- 
turn ?" 

"  A  cloud  !"  repeated  Atherton,  starting  up  from  his 
examination  and  glancing  around.  "  By  Jove,  yes  ! — one  of 
those  you  admired  so  much  from  the  citadel,  perhaps.  It 
seems  very  light — a  mere  vapor  ;  but  we  must  retrace  our 
steps  at  once,  lest  it  should  grow  more  dense  and  make  re- 
turn difficult." 

They  turned  ;  but  nobody  who  has  ever  watched  the 
rapidity  with  which  a  cloud  gathers  about  a  mountain-top, 
or  who  has  ever  had  the  misfortune  to  be  caught  in  one, 
will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  in  five  minutes  they  were 
standing  still,  wrapped  in  thick  white  mist,  and  unable  to 
tell  in  what  direction  their  path  lay. 

"  Here  is  a  nuisance  !"  said  Atherton.     "  But  no  doubt 


THE   MAST   OF   THE   FAMILY.  177 

the  cloud  will  lift  shortly,  so  that  we  can  get  our  bearings. 
It  is  better  to  wait,  although  I  am  pretty  certain  our  way 
is  in  this  direction." 

"  I  am  certain  of  nothing,"  answered  the  boy,  "  except 
that  it  is  down-hill." 

They  waited  for  what  seemed  to  them  an  interminable 
time,  but  was  in  reality  not  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes, when,  the  increasing  density  of  the  cloud  proving 
that  it  had  settled  to  remain,  Atherton  decided  to  proceed. 

"  Get  lost  ?"  he  observed,  in  reply  to  a  suggestion  of  his 
companion.  "There  is  no  danger  of  that.  Even  if  we 
don't  keep  exactly  the  right  direction  for  the  place  we  left, 
a  down-hill  course  will  take  us  out  of  the  cloud,  and  then 
we  can  get  our  bearings.  Waiting  here  is  mere  waste  of 
time." 

He  started  off  with  energy.  But  a  tropical  forest  and 
an  enwrapping  cloud  are  likely  to  exercise  a  restraining  in- 
fluence upon  the  greatest  energy.  To  break  through  dense 
undergrowth  when  able  to  perceive  surroundings,  and  know 
in  some  degree  at  least  what  direction  is  being  followed,  is 
a  rather  confusing  process  ;  but  when  a  white  mist  shrouds 
every  object  at  more  than  a  yard's  distance  from  sight,  it 
becomes  more  bewildering  than  can  be  expressed.  Ather- 
ton very  soon  relinquished  all  idea  of  anything  except  pre- 
serving such  a  downward  course  as  would  soonest  take 
them  out  of  the  cloud  ;  but,  mindful  of  the  dangers  of  un- 
seen precipices  and  hidden  pitfalls,  he  found  it  necessary  to 
proceed  with  caution — which  meant  with  a  slowness  really 
exasperating,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  day  was  far  ad- 
vanced towards  sunset.  That  the  quick  night  of  the  tropics 
should  descend  upon  them  before  they  reached  the  spot 
from  which  they  had  wandered  was,  he  knew,  their  only 
danger  ;  and,  blaming  himself  silently  but  severely  for 


178  THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

ing  been  led  away  by  the  interest  of  his  find,  he  crashed  on 
through  the  thick  vegetation,  obliged  constantly  to  pause 
and  turn  aside  from  some  more  than  usually  impenetrable 
mass  of  giant  parasites,  until — all  sense  of  even  general 
direction  altogether  lost — they  at  last  emerged  from  the 
enshrouding  mist,  to  find  themselves  on  the  mountain-side, 
with  a  vast  world  of  verdure  spreading  around  them,  and 
not  a  sign  or  token  to  tell  in  what  direction  lay  the  gorge 
which  they  had  ascended. 

De  Marsillac  looked  at  Atherton.  "  Have  you  any  idea 
where  we  are  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes  !"  was  the  reply  with  well-assumed  confidence. 
"  I  have  a  very  clear  idea  that  we  are  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain  where  we  have  been  all  the  time,  and  that  our 
course  to  reach  the  stream  which  will  guide  us  out  of  this 
wilderness  is  northwest." 

"  And  which  direction  is  northwest  ?" 

A  simple  question — a  question  most  easily  answered  by 
the  aid  of  a  compass  or  of  the  sun — but  terribly  hard  to 
answer  when  lacking  both  in  a  strange  country.  Atherton 
looked  around,  and,  experienced  woodsman  as  he  was,  his 
heart  sank.  Shut  in  as  they  were  by  forest,  with  the  sun 
sunk  out  of  sight  behind  the  mountains,  and  twilight — 
such  short-lived  twilight  ! — already  falling,  what  hope  had 
he  of  telling  what  was  north,  south,  east,  or  west  ? 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  replied  after  a  moment,  "  that  I  have 
somewhat  lost  my  orientation,  as  the  French  say.  But  we 
may  be  very  near  our  place — it  is  hard  to  tell  in  such  thick 
woods — so  I'll  try  what  a  shout  or  two  will  do.  If  the 
guide  has  come  up  and  is  anywhere  within  sound  of  my 
voice,  he'll  answer." 

He  shouted  ;  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  if  the  doctors  who 
were  accountable  for  his  presence  here  had  heard  him,  they 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  179 

would  not  have  thought  there  was  much  the  matter  with 
his  lungs.  Shout  after  shout  he  uttered,  making  the  forest 
ring,  waking  echoes  from  the  hillsides,  and  rousing  many 
strange  birds  to  answer  with  shrill  cries.  But  no  human 
voice  replied.  Pausing,  he  and  De  Marsillac  strained  their 
ears  to  listen  ;  but  after  the  mocking  echoes  ceased,  silence 
fell  as  before.  Then  the  two  looked  again  at  each  other 
and  Atherton  smiled. 

"  Plainly,  that  rascal  has  not  come  up  yet,"  he  said. 
"  Well,  it  is  impossible  that  we  can  remain  here  until  night 
falls,  waiting  for  him  to  arrive  and  answer  us.  Failing 
anything  else,  I  must  follow  my  own  judgment  of  what  our 
course  should  be.  We  will  go  this  way." 

And,  followed  by  the  boy,  he  started  off. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

AN  hour  later,  with  night  fallen  upon  them,  in  the  deep 
heart  of  a  forest  so  dense  that  they  were  in  almost  absolute 
darkness,  worn  out  with  stumbling  over  invisible  vines  and 
laboriously  breaking  a  way  through  obstructing  under- 
growth, the  two  wanderers  paused,  to  look  their  situation, 
if  they  could  not  look  each  other,  in  the  face. 

"  We  are  lost  !"  said  Atherton.  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  acknowledged  the  fact,  which  had  been  abundantly 
clear  for  some  time.  "  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  as  a  woods- 
man ;  but  when  we  came  out  of  that  infernal  cloud,  I  must 
have  turned  in  exactly  the  wrong  direction,  so  that  there 
is  no  means  of  telling  where  we  are  now." 

"  What  can  we  do  ?"  asked  De  Marsillac.  He  had  kept 
up  bravely,  following  the  guidance  of  Atherton  in  their 
laborious  tramp  through  the  wilderness  in  which  they  were 


180  THE    MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

plunged  ,  but  it  was  now  evident  from  his  voice  that  he 
was  quite  overcome  with  weariness. 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  nothing  we  can  do  except  spend 
the  night  in  the  woods,"  Atherton  answered-  "And  if 
we  can  find  an  open  space,  we  had  better  remain  quiet. 
As  soon  as  the  sun  rises  I  shall  know  in  what  direction 
to  strike  out.  But  now  we  know  nothing  of  our  where- 
abouts, and  are  surrounded  by  hidden  perils  which  make 
movement  very  unsafe. ' ' 

"  Then,"  suggested  the  boy,  "had  we  not  better  stay 
where  we  are  than  wander  farther,  looking  for  an  open 
space  which  is  difficult  to  find  ?" 

"  No  ;  because  later  in  the  night  there  is  a  moon,  and 
when  it  rises  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  see  something  of 
our  surroundings.  Here  we  can  see  nothing.  If  we  could 
manage  to  climb  a  little  higher — but  I  can  tell  from  your 
voice  that  you  are  used  up." 

"  Oh,  no  !"  was  the  prompt  reply,  while  into  the  voice 
rushed  the  rallied  energy  of  will.  ' '  If  you  think  it  best,  I 
am  ready  to  go  on." 

"  Be  sure,  then,  to  follow  me  closely  and  cautiously  ; 
for  a  fall  over  some  precipice  would  form  a  tragical  termi 
nation  to  our  adventure." 

Onward  then  again,  and  this  time  also  upward,  increas- 
ing thereby  the  strain  on  heart  and  lungs.  Atherton,  ac- 
customed to  mountaineering  and  always  a  hardy  climber, 
had  very  little  idea  how  painfully  his  companion,  with  lips 
parted  to  breathe  but  never  to  complain,  was  laboring  be- 
hind him.  Now  and  again  they  paused  ;  but,  finding  the 
thick  growth  still  all  round  them,  Atherton  again  pushed 
on,  sure  only  of  one  thing — that  he  was  mounting  up- 
ward. "  And  if  I  can  only  reach  the  crest  of  the  ridge," 
he  thought,  "  I  must  find  clearer  space." 


THE   MAST   OF   THE    FAMILY.  181 

So  on,  still  on,  breaking  through  boughs  which  swept 
their  faces  ;  plunging  waist-deep  into  beds  of  fern  or  broad- 
leaved  plants  ;  slipping  across  wet  moss  ;  falling  over  en- 
tangling vines  ;  and  all  the  time  unable  to  tell  into  what 
hidden  pitfall  the  darkness  might  betray  them. 

Happily,  in  their  wandering  they  had  left  behind  the 
cloud  which  was  the  source  of  their  trouble,  and  were  now 
upon  a  different  and  somewhat  lower  portion  of  the  ridge. 
At  least  Atherton  judged  that  it  must  be  lower — a  gap  be- 
tween loftier  heights — when,  to  his  great  relief,  they  pres- 
ently emerged  into  a  comparatively  open  space,  which  was 
evidently  the  summit  ;  for  he  at  once  perceived  that  he 
overlooked  another  world  of  dim,  mountain  forms  towering 
against  the  sky,  and  deep  valleys  and  gorges. 

"  We  are  on  the  top  of  the  divide,"  he  said  ;  "  and  can 
use  our  eyes  again — which  is  something  to  be  thankful  for. 
This  starlight  seems  quite  brilliant  after  the  darkness  we 
have  been  groping  our  way  through  ;  does  it  not  ?" 

But  his  companion  was  once  more  without  power  to  reply. 
He  sat  down  and  made  no  effort  to  do  more  than  recover 
his  breath,  of  which  a  last  bit  of  very  steep  climbing  had 
almost  entirely  deprived  him. 

"  My  poor  boy,  you  are  completely  exhausted  !"  ex- 
claimed Atherton  "  Here  !  take  a  good  pull  at  this 
flask.  It  has  been  very  trying  work,  especially  the  last 
climb.  Now  we  will  take  things  easy  for  a  while.  After 
all" — throwing  himself  upon  the  ground — "  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  be  so  tired  that  one  is  indifferent  to  everything 
except  the  mere  privilege  of  resting. ' ' 

"  Resting  is  a  good  thing.''  said  the  other,  who  was  sit- 
ting with  his  back  and  head  reclined  against  the  trunk  of 
a  palm  ;  "  but  I  can't  agree  that  it  is  good  to  be  tired — 
so  unspeakably  tired  !  If  we  had  had  another  hundred 


182  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

yards  to  climb,  I  fear  I  should  have  dropped  in  my 
tracks." 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so  and  call  a  halt  ?  There  is  no 
wisdom  in  trying  to  force  one's  self  to  exertion  beyond  a 
certain  point,  and  no  disgrace  in  acknowledging  fatigue." 

"  If  one  has  not  very  much  .strength,  one  must  make  up 
for  it  with  pluck, "  said  the  boy.  "  Did  you  not  say  so 
yourself  ?  And  there  are  few  things  one  cannot  force  one's 
self  to  do  if  one  tries.  I  have  always  believed  that.  Weak- 
ness is  often  only  another  name  for  giving  way." 

"  I  am  prepared  to  testify  that  it  is  not  an  infirmity  of 
yours,"  observed  Atherton.  "  There  are  not  many  men 
of  double  your  physical  strength  who  would  have  followed 
me  without  protest  or  complaint  as  you  have  during  the 
last  two  or  three  hours." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Praise — honest  praise — 
is  sweet  to  every  child  of  man  ;  and  possibly  those  few 
words,  simply  and  sincerely  spoken,  repaid  the  listener  for 
all  he  had  endured.  But  he  did  not  answer  them  •  only 
after  a  moment  said  : 

"  I  think  my  predominant  thought  as  I  toiled  up  the  hill 
was  what  a  fool  I  had  been  ever  to  wish  for  adventures  and 
fancy  I  should  enjoy  them.  If  this  is  a  specimen  adven- 
ture, I  shall  be  satisfied  hereafter  to  walk  in  commonplace 
paths. ' ' 

"  You  think  so  now  ;  but  if  you  have  the  real  love  of 
adventure,  you  will  feel  differently  when  you  are  once 
housed  and  fed.  Adventures  are  often  more  enjoyed  in 
retrospect  than  at  the  time  of  their  occurrence.  I  grant, 
however,  that  one  must  have  a  strong  physique  to  enjoy 
them  thoroughly." 

"  Acd  yet  you •' 

''  Have  not  a  strong  physique,  you  would  say  ?     I  be- 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  183 

lieve  that  is  a  mistake.  Did  I  climb  this  mountain  like  a 
man  who  has  anything  the  matter  with  him  ?" 

"  You  certainly  did  not.  But  are  you  not  afraid  of  the 
exposure,  if  we  must  spend  the  night  here  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  of  nothing— for  myself.  For  you,  how- 
ever, I  am  exceedingly  concerned.  Such  exposure  is  new 
to  you,  though  not  to  me  ;  and  if  there  were  any  possible 
means  of  finding  or  making  a  shelter " 

"  But  you  know  there  is  none.  And  why  should  I  suf- 
fer more  than  you  ?  I  am  young,  I  am  healthy  ;  and  if 
the  air  on  this  summit  is  a  little  chilly,  how  fresh  it  is,  and 
what  delightful  odors  come  to  us  from  the  forests  and 
gorges  below  !" 

It  is  indeed  impossible  to  conceive  anything  more  deli- 
cious than  the  sylvan  fragrance  which  night  draws  forth 
from  these  tropical  forests,  the  wild,  sweet  freshness  of 
growing  things,  which  is  carried  by  the  land-breeze  far  out 
to  sea,  to  suggest  to  the  voyagers  on  some  passing  ship — 
strangely  mingled  with  the  musical  wash  of  waves  against 
the  vessel's  side — pictures  of  great,  serrated,  forest- clad, 
cloud-swept  heights  ;  and  of  deep  green  gorges,  through 
which  clear  streams  flow  between  banks  where  vegetation 
runs  riot  in  unspeakable  luxuriance,  and  the  air  is  heavy 
with  countless  aromatic  odors  of  blossom  and  leaf. 

"  They  are  delightful,"  Atherton  agreed  ;  "  but  I  should 
appreciate  an  odor  of  food  much  more  just  now.  Heavens, 
how  hungry  I  am,  now  that  I  have  time  to  think  of  it  !" 

The  boy  sighed  :  nature  with  him,  too,  clamored  for  sup- 
port. "It  is  best  not  to  think  of  what  we  can't  possibly 
get,"  he  remarked  practically.  "  We  will  have  to  tighten 
our  belts  like  Indians.  And  you  can  smoke.  That  is  said 
to  deaden  the  pangs  of  hunger." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  ?" 


184  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  Oh,  I  will  inhale  some  of  your  smoke  ;  or,  better  yet, 
I  will  sleep  !  I  am  very  tired  \  and,  you  know,  '  qui  dort 
dine.'" 

"  I  wish  I  did  know  it  ;  for,  in  that  case,  I  should  soon 
be  sleeping  myself.  But  as  it  is,  I  will  light  a  cigar  and 
wait  for  the  moon.  She  ought  to  appear  very  soon  now." 

"  I  fear  it  is  not  so  late  as  you  think  ;  for  the  hour  of 
her  rising  is  quite  late.  And  when  she  comes,  what  can 
she  show  us  more  than  we  see  now — mountains  and  track- 
less forests?" 

' '  Well,  that  remains  to  be  seen.  At  all  events,  she  is 
our  only  hope,  until  the  sun  appears." 

Then  for  a  time  there  was  little  more  conversation.  The 
boy,  with  his  head  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  royal 
palm,  fell  asleep,  completely  worn  out  by  the  exertions  of 
the  day.  Atherton  sat,  silently  smoking,  and  anathematiz- 
ing the  folly  which  had  placed  them  in  this  exceedingly 
uncomfortable  if  not  dangerous  situation,  while  an  hour  or 
two  wore  away.  It  must  have  been  at  least  ten  o'clock  be- 
fore the  moon,  with  a  considerable  slice  taken  from  her 
waning  disk,  rose  over  the  eastern  mountains  and  flooded 
the  whole  wide  scene  with  silver  radiance.  Nothing  more 
wildly  beautiful  could  be  imagined.  But  Atherton  was 
hardly  in  a  mood  to  appreciate  the  magnificence  of  the  pic- 
ture, as  his  glance  swept  in  every  direction,  eagerly  seeking 
some  clue  to  guide  them  out  of  the  wilderness  which  sur- 
rounded them,  and  sought  in  vain.  On  every  side  towered 
great  mountains,  their  mighty  flanks  clothed  with  impene- 
trable forests  ;  the  moonlight  falling  upon  their  furrowed 
sides,  but  failing  to  pierce  the  deep  canons  at  their  base  ; 
and  all  wrapped  as  with  a  mantle  in  the  majestic  calm,  the 
inexpressible  solitude  only  to  be  seen  and  felt  in  remote, 
untrodden  wilds. 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  185 

Over  the  prospect,  on  the  side  of  the  ridge  from  which 
he  had  ascended,  Atherton  gazed  in  despair,  and  then  turned 
his  observation  to  the  country  on  the  other  side.  This  in 
its  general  features  was  much  the  same,  only  he  perceived 
that  immediately  below  them  instead  of  a  ravine  there  was 
a  valley — one  of  those  spaces,  fruitful  and  well-watered, 
which  abound  even  in  the  recesses  of  the  great  heights. 
Hope  suggested  to  him  that  there  might  be  a  village,  or  at 
least  a  hamlet,  here  ;  for  he  remembered  the  trail  branch- 
ing off  from  the  road  to  La  Ferriere,  which  they  had  fol- 
lowed, and  which  the  guide  had  said  led,  no  doubt,  to  some 
village  among  the  hills.  Might  not  the  village  be  here 
below  them  ?  And  if  so,  what  would  be  easier  than  to  ob- 
tain a  guide  there  ;  or,  even  without  one,  to  follow  the  trail 
until  it  led  them  back  to  where  they  had  left  their  horses  ? 
The  moon  had  not  yet  risen  high  enough  to  illumine  the 
valley,  which,  being  on  the  western  side  of  the  ridge,  was 
in  deep  shadow  ;  but  Atherton  strained  his  vision  in  the 
attempt  to  pierce  the  obscurity  sufficiently  to  tell  if  there 
were  any  signs  of  human  habitation  within  its  borders. 

The  cabins  of  these  villages  are,  however,  so  insignifi- 
cant and  nestle  so  closely  under  the  spreading  shade  of 
mango,  banana,  and  palm  trees,  by  which  they  are  always 
surrounded,  that  to  distinguish  them  at  any  distance  even 
in  daytime  is  difficult.  It  was  not  strange,  therefore,  that 
he  failed  to  discern  any  such  sign  as  he  sought  ;  and  he 
had  resigned  himself  to  waiting  for  the  advent  of  day, 
when  suddenly  he  perceived  the  most  unmistakable  of  all 
the  tokens  by  which  man  indicates  his  presence — a  light. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it.  A  mere  point  in  the  dis- 
tance, it  still  shone  with  a  steady  glow  out  of  the  obscurity 
which  clothed  the  valley  ;  such  a  light  as  streams  from  the 
habitation  of  man  alone,  and  spoke  eloquently  to  the  weary 


18G  THE   MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

wanderers  of  the  possibility  of  obtaining  the  food,  shelter, 
and  guidance  they  needed. 

Atherton  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  after  the  friendly 
gleam  had  met  his  eye  ;  but  walked  over  to  where  his  com- 
panion still  slumbered,  and,  laying  a  hand  on  the  lad's 
shoulder,  shook  him. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  the  latter,  opening  his  eyes  quick- 
ly, for  the  slumber  cannot  be  very  profound  that  is  taken 
in  a  sitting  posture,  with  no  softer  pillow  than  the  trunk 
of  a  palm. 

"  A  light !"  replied  Atherton.  "  A  beacon  to  guide  us 
out  of  this  wretched  situation.  Evidently  there  is  some 
inhabitant,  or  perhaps  a  village,  in  the  valley  below  us,  and 
we  are  going  there  at  once." 

"  Are  we  ?"  said  the  boy,  rising  to  his  feet.  "  It  seems 
to  me  we  would  do  better  to  remain  here  until  morning. 
I  dread  plunging  into  the  deep  woods  again. " 

"  Nonsense  !"  answered  Atherton  vigorously.  "  Think 
of  obtaining  something  to  eat,  not  to  speak  of  a  better 
place  to  rest  than  this  mountain-top  !" 

"  But  the  woods  !  Think  how  dark  they  are  and  how 
tangled  ;  and  how  certain  we  shall  be  to  lose  our  direction 
as  soon  as  we  are  in  them  again." 

"  We  shall  not  lose  our  direction.  I  have  the  points  of 
the  compass  clearly  in  my  mind  now." 

"  Eh  bien,"  said  the  boy,  shrugging  his  shoulders  in  his 
French  fashion;  "lead  on.  But  I  am  certain  you  will 
wish  yourself  back  before  you  have  gone  very  far." 

"  And  I  am  certain  I  shall  not,  whatever  you  may  do," 
Atherton  answered,  as  he  again  took  the  lead,  and  set  off 
at  a  brisk  pace  down  the  mountain-side. 

Facilis  descensus  held  good  here  as  elsewhere.  They 
had  less  fatigue  than  in  ascending,  and  went  down  at  a 


THE   MAtf    OF   THE   FAMILY.  187 

more  rapid  rate  ;  but  hardly  with  less  difficulty,  as  far  as 
breaking  their  way  through  the  undergrowth  was  con- 
cerned. Into  these  dense  shades  sunlight  can  scarcely 
penetrate  ;  and  the  moon's  pale  rays,  even  had  they  not 
been  on  the  shaded  side  of  the  mountain,  would  have  had 
little  power  to  pierce  the  thick  canopy  of  foliage  under 
which  they  plunged.  Guiding  himself,  therefore,  more  by 
touch  than  by  sight,  Atherton  crashed  along,  sending  back 
now  and  then  a  brief  warning  or  direction  to  the  boy  fol- 
lowing him  ;  trusting  that  he  was  keeping  his  general 
direction,  but  certain  of  nothing  in  these  bewildering 
shades.  It  was  breathless  work  ;  but  after  an  hour  they 
found  themselves  on  level  ground,  and  emerged  into  a  val- 
ley encircled  by  giant  heights,  and  looking  an  ideal  abode 
of  peace  and  Arcadian  happiness,  as  its  cluster  of  palm- 
thatched  huts  lay  under  the  broad  shadow  of  fruit  groves 
by  the  side  of  a  clear,  babbling  stream. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

4 'Now/'  observed  Atherton,  as  they  paused  in  momen- 
tary admiration  of  this  smiling  spot,  "  are  we  not  more 
than  repaid  for  the  labor  that  it  has  cost  us  to  reach  here  ?" 

"  Before  answering  that,"  said  his  companion,  "  we  will 
see  what  kind  of  reception  we  meet.  You  know  what  Mr. 
Hoffman  told  us  of  the  dislike  and  suspicion  with  which 
white  people  are  regarded  in  these  places." 

"  Oh,  a  fig  for  dislike  and  suspicion,  if  they  give  us  food 
and  shelter  !"  Atherton  returned.  "  "We  will  select  the 
principal  house  for  our  application,  and  I  have  no  fear  of 
the  result.  Come  ! — only  a  few  steps  farther,  and  our 
labors  for  the  night  are  over." 


188  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

Following  a  path  along  the  margin  of  the  stream,  they 
approached  the  shade-embowered  hamlet,  which  still  seemed 
wrapped  in  deep  repose  until  they  were  within  a  very  short 
distance  of  it.  Then  suddenly  on  the  still  night  air  there 
rose  the  sound  of  singing — a  weird,  monotonous  chanting 
of  many  voices,  that  evidently  issued  from  a  building  which 
they  were  immediately  approaching  :  a  long,  low,  palm- 
thatched  edifice  of  wood. 

Atherton  paused.  Something  in  the  character  of  the 
sound  recalled  to  his  memory  all  that  he  had  heard  of  Vau- 
doux  meetings — how  they  are  held  at  dead  of  night,  gener- 
ally in  remote  spots  where  no  eye  of  the  uninitiated  can 
behold  them,  and  where  any  stranger  who  should  present 
himself  would  run  the  utmost  risk.  What  could  this 
strange  singing  indicate  but  some  such  gathering  ?  And 
if  so,  it  behooved  them  to  be  cautious.  He  looked  at  his 
companion,  who  had  paused  also. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  it  will  be  well  to  ascer- 
tain what  this  means  before  we  allow  our  presence  to  be 
known." 

"  If  we  were  at  home,"  replied  the  boy,  "  I  should  know 
very  well  what  it  means.  I  should  say  that  it  was  a  negro 
religious  meeting,  and  that  they  would  soon  begin  to 
shout." 

"  But  since  we  are  in  Hayti,"  said  Atherton,  "  there  is 
danger  that  it  may  be  a  religious  meeting  of  another  kind. 
It  may  be  one  of  the  Vaudoux  gatherings,  of  which  we 
heard  such  terrible  stories  at  the  Cape." 

"  I  don't  believe  those  stories,"  answered  the  other. 
"  A  form  of  Vaudoux  exists  among  the  negroes  in  Louisiana, 
and  therefore  I  know  it  is  absurd  to  talk  of  it  as  a  regular 
worship  with  priests  and  sacrifices.  It  is  simply  a  survival 
of  African  sorcery,  practised  by  some  negroes  on  others 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  189 

more  ignorant  than  themselves,  and  connected  more  or  less 
with  a  horrible  African  dance." 

"  You  forget  that  Louisiana  is  as  different  from  Hayti 
as  from  the  interior  of  Africa,"  said  Atherton.  "  But, 
whether  matters  have  been  exaggerated  or  not,  we  must 
know  what  this  is  before  going  farther  ;  for  should  it  prove 
to  be  what  I  suspect,  our  danger  would  be  extreme.  Let 
us  get  into  the  shade." 

As  he  spoke  he  stepped  out  of  the  bright  moonlight 
which  lay  upon  the  path  -into  the  deep  shade  of  a  thicket 
of  mimosas,  which,  with  other  luxuriant  growths,  extend- 
ed up  to  the  building  from  which  the  singing  proceeded. 
Safe  from  observation  here,  and  moving  with  extreme  quiet- 
ness, they  approached  the  house  in  the  rear  ;  and  found  it 
so  rudely  and  carelessly  built  that  they  were  able  to  see 
clearly  all  that  was  taking  place  within  by  looking  through 
the  chinks  of  the  wall,  while  keeping  carefully  in  the  shel- 
ter of  some  large,  broad-leaved  plants  which  grew  immedi- 
ately against  it. 

What  they  beheld  was  a  scene  so  weird  and  so  entirely  a 
verification  of  all  they  had  heard  and  read  that  they  could 
not  doubt  they  were  indeed  looking  upon  a  meeting  of 
Vaudoux  worshippers  ;  and  even  their  pressing  bodily 
wants  were  for  a  time  forgotten  in  the  interest  it  awak- 
ened. For  wild  and  terrible  are  the  stories  told  in  Hayti 
of  this  fearful  idolatry,  which,  introduced  in  the  days  of  the 
French  Colony  by  slaves  from  the  west  coast  of  Africa,  and 
practised  secretly  then,  is  now  so  widely  diffused  that  it  is 
impossible  to  say  what  order  of  Haytian  life  is  free  from  its 
degrading  superstition.  It  is  at  least  certain  that,  although 
nominally  forbidden  by  law,  the  sect  is  so  powerful  in  num- 
bers and  influence  that  few  officials  are  brave  enough  to 
incur  its  enmity  ;  and  that  especially  in  country  districts 


190  THE   SLOT   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

it  flourishes  almost  unchecked,  even  when  it  takes  its  most 
awful  form  of  human  sacrifices  and  cannibalism.  It  was 
owing  no  doubt  to  the  remoteness  of  this  spot,  upon  which 
the  two  wanderers  had  stumbled,  that  the  temple  into 
which  they  looked  stood  within  the  borders  of  a  hamlet  in- 
stead of  being  as  usual  buried  in  the  forest ;  and  that  there 
seemed  no  pretence  of  secrecy  in  the  celebration  of  the  dark 
rites  now  going  on  within. 

At  the  end  of  the  long  apartment,  which  was  all  that  the 
building  contained,  there  stood  a  kind  of  altar,  beside 
which,  on  chairs  draped  with  red  cloth  and  elevated  on  a 
throne-like  platform,  sat  a  man  and  woman — evidently  the 
priest  and  priestess.  Both  were  pure  negroes,  of  the  ordi- 
nary Haytian  type  ;  and  both  were  dressed  in  long  gowns 
girded  by  red  sashes.  The  man  wore  also  a  red  handker- 
chief bound  around  his  forehead,  above  which  stood  erect 
the  peculiarly  knotted  hair  that  marks  the  Papaloi,  or 
Vaudoux  priest.  A  throng  of  men  and  women  filled  the 
room,  all  of  whom  were  singing  the  monotonous,  barbaric 
chant  which  had  first  attracted  the  attention  of  the  look- 
ers-on ;  and  all  were  moving  their  bodies  in  slow,  swaying 
motion  ;  while  every  eye  was  fastened  on  the  altar,  upon 
which  stood  a  box  containing  the  serpent  which  was  the 
object  of  their  idolatry. 

De  Marsillac  shuddered.  ' '  This  is  horrible  !' '  he  whisper- 
ed. "  All  that  we  have  heard  must  be  true.  Let  us  go  away." 

"Not  yet,"  Atherton  replied.  "Think  what  an  un- 
looked-for chance  to  witness  one  of  these  meetings  !  Men 
have  risked  their  lives  by  going  in  disguise  to  see  what  we 
see  now  without  any  risk  at  all.  Of  course  we  must  pres- 
ently go  back  to  the  forest  ;  for  we  cannot  show  ourselves 
until  daylight  after  this.  But  we  will  not  go  until  we  have 
seen  whatever " 


THE    MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY.  191 

He  paused  abruptly  in  his  speech  ;  for  the  chant  sudden- 
ly ceased  and  silence  fel1 — a  profound,  complete  silence, 
which  lasted  for  several  minutes.  Then,  rising  to  his  feet, 
the  Papaloi  began  to  speak — at  first  in  low,  rapid  tones  ; 
then  louder,  with  increasing  excitement,  until  at  last  he 
fairly  shrieked  his  utterances.  To  Atherton  these  were 
mostly  unintelligible,  from  the  patois  in  which  they  were 
spoken  ;  but  the  young  Louisianian  comprehended  enough 
to  be  aware  that  the  speaker  was  extolling  the  worship  of 
the  serpent  in  which  they  were  all  engaged  ;  that  he  urged 
his  followers  to  be  faithful  to  this  adoration,  and  to  obey 
implicitly  the  commands  of  Vaudoux  ;  promising  them 
freely  temporal  and  also  spiritual  rewards.  The  degree  to 
which  he  had  wrought  upon  the  emotions  of  his  listeners 
was  soon  apparent  from  the  cries  that  broke  from  them, 
and  in  the  increased  motion  of  their  bodies — a  nervous 
shaking,  apparently  beyond  control,  that  passed  like  a  wave 
over  them.  Some  prostrated  themselves  before  the  altar, 
others  with  lifted  hands  uttered  petitions  ;  when,  perceiv- 
ing that  he  had  raised  their  excitement  to  the  proper 
pitch,  the  speaker  suddenly  broke  again  into  the  chant, 
now  wilder,  higher  in  key,  more  barbaric  in  its  strange 
rhythm  than  before  ;  while  added  to  it  was  an  accompani- 
ment that  seemed  to  transport  the  assemblage  to  frenzy — 
the  peculiar  sound  of  the  Congo  drum. 

The  scene  which  followed  soon  became  indescribable. 
Still  singing,  the  people  began  to  dance,  shaking  violently 
with  the  nervous  trembling  already  mentioned  ;  some  of 
them  hissing  and  wriggling  like  snakes,  and  all  filled  with 
what  seemed  a  veritable  diabolic  possession.  Louder  grew 
the  chanting,  more  frenzied  the  movements  of  the  dancers 
— some  in  their  fury  tearing  off  portions  of  their  clothing — 
while  above  all  sounded  the  note  of  the  drum  :  a  strange, 


192  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

wild  echo  from  the  deep  African  forests  whence  this  infer- 
nal worship  came.  As  the  red  light  of  the  smoking  torches, 
which  alone  illuminated  the  room,  fell  over  the  scene,  it 
was  hard  to  believe  that  these  savage  creatures,  dancing 
their  horrible  dance  with  demoniacal  energy,  had  ever  left 
those  dark  forests,  or  been  brought  into  the  faintest  con- 
tact with  any  form  of  civilization. 

"  It  is  too  dreadful  to  witness,"  said  De  Marsillac,  avert- 
ing his  face  with  a  gasp  of  horror.  "  Oh,  let  us  go  away  !" 

But  Atherton's  hand  fell  on  his  arm  with  a  detaining 
grasp. 

"  Wait !"  he  answered.  "  We  will  go  after  a  moment, 
but  I  must  see  the  end  of  this.  What  can  be  to  come  next  ?' ' 

He  was  soon  answered.  The  drum  ceased,  and,  as  if 
under  the  influence  of  a  spell,  instantly  the  whole  frantic 
assemblage  became  quiet  and  silent  again.  But  now  the 
silence  had  in  it  a  sinister,  menacing  quality  of  expectation 
— such  expectation  as  that  of  the  tiger  when,  crouching 
motionless  but  quivering  in  the  jungle,  he  waits  the  com- 
ing of  his  victim.  Like  so  many  human  tigers  these  men 
and  women  now  waited,  their  glistening  eyes  fastened  on 
the  altar.  Plainly,  something  terrible  was  about  to  take 
place.  Atherton  felt  himself  growing  cold  with  undefina- 
ble  horror. 

Presently  the  Papaloi  arose,  made  an  obeisance  to  the 
serpent,  and,  passing  behind  the  altar,  drew  forth  from 
beneath  something  which  he  brought  forward  and  laid  be- 
fore it. 

"  My  God  !"  said  Atherton  in  a  sharp  whisper  to  his 
companion.  "  They  have  brought  out  a  child  !" 

"  A  child  !  Impossible  !"  exclaimed  the  other,  turning 
to  look  once  more  through  the  aperture  from  which  he  had 
averted  his  face. 


THE    MAST   OF   THE   FAMILY.  193 

It  was  a  child  undoubtedly — a  female  child  of  six  or 
seven  years,  bound  hand  and  foot — that  lay  before  the 
altar.  A  stir  of  horrible  eagerness  passed  over  the  assem- 
blage, but  the  silence  still  remained  unbroken  while  a  stal- 
wart young  negro  detached  himself  from  the  throng,  and, 
approaching  the  throne,  knelt  before  the  priestess,  or 
Mamamloi.  What  he  said  was  not  audible  to  the  concealed 
and  now  horror-stricken  observers  (it  was,  in  fact,  a  request 
that  they  might  offer  the  sacrifice  of  the  "  goat  without 
horns")  ;  but  her  gracious  assent  was  evident,  and  imme- 
diately two  other  negroes  came  forward  and  lifted  the  child 
to  her  feet. 

"  They  are  going  to  murder  her  !"  cried  De  Marsillac, 
seizing  Atherton's  arm.  "  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  let  us  do 
something  before  it  is  too  late  !" 

"  What  can  we  do  ?"  asked  the  other.  "  We  ourselves 
would  be  murdered  if  our  presence  was  discovered  ;  for" — 
he  swore  a  great  oath,  which  was  surely  not  recorded 
against  him — "  the  infernal  devils  are  indeed  about  to  offer 
a  human  sacrifice  !" 

At  this  moment  the  Papaloi,  knife  in  hand,  again  ad- 
vanced to  the  child,  who  until  nov*  had  seemed  half-stupe- 
fied, but  who,  catching  the  deadly  gleam  of  the  blade, 
began  to  scream. 

That  scream  was  echoed  by  another  cry  as  the  Papaloi 
drew  his  knife  across  the  victim's  throat — a  cry  which  made 
the  whole  assemblage  start  and  look  around,  seeking  the 
person  from  whom  it  had  proceeded.  A  breathless  minute 
passed  in  this  scrutiny,  then  some  one  shouted,  "  Outside  ! 
— search  outside  !"  and  a  dozen  men  rushed  from  the 
building. 

Meanwhile  when  De  Marsillac,  with  that  involuntary  cry 
of  overmastering  horror,  dropped  fainting  at  his  feet, 


194  THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

Atherton  had  known  that  there  was  not  a  second  to  lose  if 
their  lives  were  to  be  saved.  One  quick  motion  of  his  hand 
to  his  pocket  gave  him  the  assurance  that  his  revolver  was 
there  ;  then,  picking  up  the  insensible  boy,  he  retreated  as 
rapidly  as  his  burdened  condition  would  allow  through  the 
bushes  which  had  sheltered  them,  and  spent  the  minute 
which  meant  their  salvation  in  putting  all  the  distance 
possible  between  himself  and  the  temple  ;  so  that  by  the 
time  the  searchers  had  rushed  out  and  were  beating  the 
bushes  where  he  and  his  companion  had  been  standing,  he 
was  a  hundred  yards  away.  He  was  aware,  however,  that 
their  fate  was  sealed  unless  he  could  find  some  place  of  im- 
mediate concealment.  To  gain  the  forest,  burdened  as  he 
was,  before  he  could  be  overtaken  was  impossible  ;  so,  with 
senses  quickened  by  the  awful  nearness  of  the  danger,  he 
looked  around,  seeking  some  refuge,  as  men  only  seek  that 
on  which  life  and  death  depend. 

But  where  was  refuge  to  be  found  in  this  haunt  of  mur- 
derers ?  His  eager  gaze  swept  the  scene  around  him,  while 
the  voices  of  the  searchers  seemed  to  his  excited  fancy  to 
be  drawing  every  instant  nearer  ;  but  he  perceived  no  shel- 
ter which  could  serve  any  purpose  of  concealment.  Filled 
with  a  sense  of  despair,  he  was  about  to  place  the  boy  upon 
the  ground,  and,  standing  over  him,  kill  as  many  of  the 
wretches  seeking  them  as  possible  before  the  inevitable  end 
— an  end  which  gained  new  horror  from  the  thought  of 
what  would  follow  death — should  come,  when  suddenly  he 
thought  of  the  stream.  As  they  approached  the  hamlet  he 
had  observed  that  its  banks,  especially  in  one  place,  were 
washed  out,  forming  cavities  on  each  side.  Here  was  a 
hiding-place  which  might  pass  unnoticed  save  in  case  of  a 
prolonged  and  careful  search — such  search  as  would  not  be 
likely  to  be  made,  since  the  wretches  would  hardly  suppose 


THE    MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  195 

that  strangers  could  have  wandered  into  this  remote  spot. 
It  was  an  instant's  work  to  gain  the  bank  of  the  stream, 
break  through  the  bushes  fringing  it,  and  let  himself  and 
his  still  insensible  companion  down  over  the  crumbling  edge. 

Underneath  he  found,  as  he  thought  would  be  the  case, 
a  perfect  place  of  concealment.  During  past  flood-times, 
when  swollen  to  a  raging  torrent,  the  stream  had  chiselled 
out  these  hollow  spaces,  from  the  projecting  surfaces  of 
which  a  green  curtain  of  bushes  and  vines  now  drooped. 
Atherton  pushed  these  aside,  and  into  the  cavity  behind 
thrust  the  body  of  the  boy  ;  then,  crouching  beside  him, 
waited,  pistol  in  hand,  for  what  should  come. 

What  came  were  many  trampling  feet  upon  the  path 
above  him,  and  much  talk  in  a  language  of  which  he  only 
now  and  then  caught  a  word  he  understood.  But  the 
tones  of  the  speakers  told  him  they  were  of  differing  opin- 
ions— some  for  searching  farther,  some  for  returning  ;  and 
it  was  also  evident  that  the  latter  were  in  the  majority. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  these  last  were  of  the  opinion  that  the 
cry  had  been  uttered  within  rather  than  without  the  house, 
by  some  novice  not  yet  hardened  to  the  offering  of  human 
victims,  who  was  ashamed  or  afraid  to  confess  it.  "  For 
how,"  they  argued,  "could  a  stranger  possibly  have  been 
present  ?  Or  when  had  such  a  thing  ever  been  known  as 
that  any  one  from  the  outside  penetrated  here  ?" 

Perhaps  the  others  were  ready  to  be  convinced,  feeling 
secure  of  their  impunity  in  crime,  and  anxious  to  return  to 
the  horrible  feast  awaiting  them.  At  all  events,  after  a 
pause  and  discussion  just  above  the  spot  where  Atherton 
crouched  grimly  waiting,  they  retraced  their  steps  ;  their 
voices  gradually  died  away,  and  silence  reigned  again  over 
the  wide,  beautiful  scene,  which  had  so  suddenly  been 
transformed  into  a  very  gate  of  hell. 


196  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WITH  the  aid  of  the  water  near  by,  it  was  not  difficult 
to  revive  the  insensible  boy.  Atherton  dashed  it  liberally 
over  his  face  ;  and,  when  he  stirred  with  a  reviving  gasp, 
raised  the  flask  to  his  lips.  "  Drink  !"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
of  such  imperative  command  that  the  other  obeyed  with- 
out protest  or  hesitation  ;  and  after  a  moment  was  able  to 
withdraw  himself  from  support  and  sit  up  alone,  though 
trembling  excessively. 

"  Did  they  murder  her?"  he  asked  then,  in  a  horror- 
stricken  whisper.  "  My  God,  I  can  still  hear  her  cry  !" 

"  It  seemed  unnecessary  on  your  part  to  echo  it,  how- 
ever," replied  Atherton.  "  In  consequence,  we  have  had  as 
narrow  an  escape  from  death  as  we  are  likely  ever  to  have. " 

"  Did  I  cry  out  so  as  to  be  heard  ?"  asked  the  other. 
"  I  did  not  know  it.  And  I  fainted  too  ?  That  is  strange. 
I  never  fainted  before  in  my  life." 

"  You  never  before  had  such  occasion.  I  don't  blame 
you  for  fainting  ;  but  it  was  your  cry  that  brought  the 
whole  pack  of  devils  at  our  heels. ' ' 

"  What  shameful  weakness  on  my  part  !"  said  the  boy 
in  an  accent  of  intense  contrition.  "  How  did  we  escape  ?" 

"  I  picked  you  up  and  ran  for  it.  There  was  nothing 
else  to  do.  If  you  were  not  a  light-weight  I  could  never 
have  done  it." 

"  You  carried  me  !  Oh,  I  can  never  forgive  myself  ! 
What  a  position  to  place  you  in  !  You  would  have  been 
justified  in  leaving  me  to  my  fate.  But" — with  a  violent 
shudder — "  thank  God  and  thank  you  that  you  did  not  !" 

"  I  should  have  made  a  fight  if  the  worst  had  come," 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  197 

said  Atherton.  "  I  had  seven  shots,  and  I  knew  I  could 
answer  for  that  many  of  the  miserable  wretches.  But  of 
course  we  should  have  been  killed  at  last — and  eaten ! 
That  was  the  most  appalling  thought." 

The  boy  drew  nearer  to  him  with  an  involuntary  move- 
ment. 

"  Where  are  we  now  ?"  he  whispered.     "  Are  we  safe  ?" 

"  Not  yet,  but  we  soon  shall  be.  I  am  only  waiting  to 
give  those  who  pursued  us  time  to  return  to  their  devilish 
worship  before  we  make  our  way  back  to  the  forest." 

Ten  minutes  passed,  which  seemed  an  hour  ;  and  then, 
bidding  his  companion  remain  quiet,  Atherton  rose. 

"  I  am  going  to  reconnoitre  a  little,"  he  said.  "  On  no 
account  stir  until  I  return." 

Leaving  the  cavity  where  they  crouched,  and  standing 
on  the  edge  of  the  shallow  stream,  he  cautiously  parted  the 
bushes  growing  along  the  bank  and  looked  over  the  valley. 
There  was  no  sign  of  human  presence  ;  and,  after  listening 
intently  for  some  seconds,  he  sprang  to  the  surface  of  the 
bank  and  disappeared,  leaving  De  Marsillac  a  prey  to  the 
keenest  anxiety  and  fear. 

At  another  time  the  boy  would  have  followed,  despite 
the  injunction  to  the  contrary  which  he  had  received  ;  but 
now,  acutely  conscious  of  his  late  ignominious  failure  in 
self-control  and  the  consequent  peril  in  which  it  had  placed 
them,  he  felt  that  he  owed  Atherton,  who  had  saved  his 
life  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  the  return  of  implicit  obedience 
as  long  as  this  situation  of  danger  lasted.  He  waited, 
therefore,  for  what  appeared  an  interminable  length  of 
time,  until  at  last  he  heard  a  slight  sound  above,  and  the 
next  moment  Atherton  dropped  over  the  bank  again. 

"  All  clear  !"  he  reported  briefly.  "  I  have  been  as  far 
as  the  village,  and  found  no  one  watching.  They  are  all 


198  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

at  their  infernal  orgies,  and  now  is  our  time  to  escape. 
We  must  go  at  once. ' ' 

"  I  am  ready,"  replied  the  boy,  rising  as  he  spoke. 

The  bank  once  mounted,  he  was  conscious  of  an  access 
of  vigor  from  the  sight  of  the  hamlet  and  the  thought  of 
the  danger  lurking  there.  It  was  true  that  a  sense  of 
deadly  sickness  came  over  him  at  the  recollection  of  what 
he  had  witnessed,  and  of  what  was  no  doubt  now  going  on. 
But  it  was  a  sickness  which  did  not  incapacitate,  but  on 
the  contrary  lent  such  wings  to  his  feet  that  he  was  in  ad- 
vance of  Atherton  when  they  gained  the  forest  and  once 
more  breathed  freely,  knowing  themselves  at  last  safe  from 
pursuit. 

Pausing  on  the  edge  of  the  deep  woods  into  which  they 
were  about  to  plunge,  Atherton  glanced  back  over  the 
scene  that  so  short  a  time  before  had  looked  to  them  an 
idyllic  Arcadia  in  its  peaceful  serenity  and  beauty. 

"  At  this  moment,"  he  said,  "  there  is  nothing  I  would 
not  give  to  be  able  to  level  a  field-piece  upon  that  abode  of 
devils  and  wipe  it  out  of  existence.  Yet  I  must  turn  my 
back  and  go  away  ;  knowing  that  what  we  have  seen  to- 
night will  be  repeated  again  and  yet  again." 

"  Is  there  no  possibility  of  punishing  them  in  anyway  ?" 
asked  De  Marsillac.  "  If  these  atrocities  are  against  the 
law,  can  we  not  inform  the  authorities  of  what  we  have 
seen  ?" 

"  And  do  you  think  the  authorities  would  act  upon  any 
information  given  by  foreigners  and  white  men?  You 
have  not  grasped  the  idea  yet  of  what  Hayti  is." 

"  But  it  seems  appalling  to  do  nothing.  Think  of  the 
unutterable  horror  of  it  !  Can  you  ever  forget  the  cry  of 
that  child?" 

"  Not  soon,  I  fear.     But  the  scene  when  I  went  back — 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  199 

don't  ask  me  to  speak  of  that.  Ah,  how  the  recollection 
sickens  me  !" 

"  I  would  not  hear  of  it  for  anything  !"  cried  the  other 
hastily.  "  For  God's  sake,  let  us  get  away — far  away  !  I 
never  before  knew  how  a  coward  feels  ;  but  now  I  am  afraid 
— horribly  afraid." 

"  There  is  now  nothing  to  fear,"  said  Atherton,  as  they 
went  on.  "  Not  one  of  those  cannibals  would  leave  his 
awful  feast ;  and  besides  they  are  drinking,  and  will  soon 
be  helplessly  intoxicated.  What  a  glorious  opportunity  to 
go  in  and  kill  the  whole  of  them — devil- worshippers  and 
murderers  as  they  are  !" 

' '  I  would  rather  have  killed  them  at  the  moment  of  the 
murder.  If  I  had  had  a  pistol  1  should  have  shot  that 
Papaloi  as  he  turned  with  the  knife.  Nothing  could  have 
held  my  hand — I  am  sure  of  it. ' ' 

"  It  would  have  been  a  well-merited  punishment,  and 
possibly  not  more  dangerous  in  its  results  than  what  you 
did.  But,  after  all,  we  have  not  come  to  Hayti  to  consti- 
tute ourselves  avengers  of  blood.  Eemember  what  lies  yet 
untouched  in  the  garden  of  Millefleurs. " 

As  if  struck  by  a  shot,  the  boy  paused,  and,  turning, 
faced  his  companion.  They  were  not  yet  in  a  forest  so 
dense  but  that  some  stray  beams  of  moonlight  filtered 
through  the  foliage  and  showed  to  each  the  pale  face  of  the 
other. 

"What  did  I  say  to  you  yesterday?"  he  asked  in  a 
quick,  tense  tone.  "  Did  I  not  say  that  we  might  die  in- 
stead of  returning  there  ?  You  laughed  at  me  then.  But 
how  near  death  we  have  been  to-night  !  And  how  do  we 
know  that  even  yet  we  are  out  of  danger  ?" 

"  I  think  that  we  are,"  replied  Atherton.  "  It  is  rather 
curious  that  you  should  have  said  that  yesterday  ;  but  it 


200  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

was  only  one  of  those  chance  shots  which  events  afterwards 
turn  into  a  prophecy.  You  certainly  can't  pretend  that 
you  had  any  premonition  that  we  were  to  run  into  such 
danger  as  we  have  been  exposed  to." 

"  No,"  answered  the  other,  "  I  had  no  premonition  fur- 
ther than  what  I  told  you,  and  you  called  superstition — the 
belief  that  if  I  did  not  then  take  what  I  came  to  seek  I 
would  not  have  another  chance  to  do  so.  And  now" — he 
spoke  in  a  tone  of  despair — "  I  am  sure  that  I  never  shall." 

"  This  is  ridiculous  folly  !"  exclaimed  Atherton  impa- 
tiently. "  I  would  not  have  believed  that  a  boy  of  so  much 
pluck  could  be  guilty  of  it.  What  is  to  prevent  your  re- 
turning ?  Here  we  are  safe  ;  and  we  have  only  to  wait  a 
few  hours  for  daylight  to  find  our  way  back  to  our  men 
and  horses." 

"  You  don't  know  how  exhausted  I  am,"  said  the  other, 
confessing  it  for  the  first  time.  "  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
get  back  to  the  place  we  left.  And  we  cannot  seek  help, 
and  you  certainly  cannot  carry  me  again  ;  and  so " 

"  And  so  we  are  to  perish  like  the  babes  in  the  wood  ! 
A  very  pretty  programme,  truly.  If  the  worst  came  to  the 
worst,  I  would  show  you  whether  or  not  I  could  carry  you 
again  ;  but  it  isn'  t  coming  to  that.  We  are  going  to  find 
a  place  to  rest,  and  sleep  if  we  can  ;  and  to-morrow  you 
will  laugh  at  this  nonsense.  Come  !" 

He  took  the  boy's  arm  and  drew  him  on.  They  were 
still  following  the  stream,  and  a  few  minutes  later  they 
found  themselves  in  a  leafy  glade  among  the  hills — a  spot 
fit  for  a  fairies'  meeting-place,  where  the  ground  was  free 
from  undergrowth,  and  the  moonbeams  fell  through  the 
exquisite  fronds  of  tree-ferns,  while  all  the  solitude  was 
made  musical  by  the  sound  of  water. 

"  Here  is  a  good  resting-place,"  said  Athertou.     "  Sit 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  201 

down  on  that  bed  of  ferns,  put  your  back  against  that  tree, 
and  now  we  will  address  ourselves  to  a  light  collation  of 
bananas." 

He  began  emptying  his  pockets  as  he  spoke,  until  a  large 
pile  of  this  nutritious  fruit  lay  before  them. 

"  There  is  one  great  advantage  in  being  lost  in  the 
tropics,"  he  said,  as  he  turned  down  the  skin  of  one  :  "no- 
body need  starve  here.  There  is  no  better  food  than  this." 

"  When  did  you  get  these  ?"  asked  his  companion  with 
surprise. 

"  When  I  returned  to  the  village.  It  was  only  to  lift 
one's  hand  and  help  one's  self,  and  fortunately  my  pockets 
are  deep.  Half  a  dozen  or  so  of  these  and  a  little  brandy 
and  water,  and  you  will  be  ready  to  go  to  sleep,  and  wake 
to-morrow  quite  fresh  and  ready  for  our  tramp  over  the 
hills." 

"  You  must  think  me  contemptibly  weak,"  said  the  boy 
after  a  few  minutes'  silence,  "  and,  I  am  afraid,  as  weak  in 
mind  as  in  body." 

"  I  think  nothing  of  the  kind.  But  you  are  completely 
used  up  ;  besides  which,  your  nerves  were  terribly  shaken 
by  the  awful  scene  we  witnessed  ;  so  it  is  no  wonder  our 
situation  looks  to  you  much  darker  than  it  is." 

"  You  say  my  nerves  are  shaken,"  said  the  other,  after 
another  brief  pause.  "  1  suppose  they  are.  The  gleam  of 
that  knife  is  before  my  eyes  all  the  time,  and  the  cry  of 
that  child  rings  unceasingly  in  my  ears. " 

He  put  his  hands  before  his  face,  as  if  to  shut  out  the 
scene  his  fancy  so  vividly  painted,  at  the  same  time  shudder- 
ing convulsively. 

"  What  you  want  is  rest,"  said  Atherton  kindly  ;  for  he 
saw  that  it  was  a  case  of  shock  to  the  nerves  that  would  not 
soon  pass  away.  "  Try  to  think  of  something  else.  And 


202  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

get  to  sleep  as  soon  as  possible.     There  is  nothing  like 
sleep  to  bring  the  nerves  back  to  their  proper  condition." 

"And  you?" 

"  I  shall  not  sleep.  I  have  no  inclination  to  do  so  ;  and 
I  think  it,  on  the  whole,  safer  to  keep  watch.  I  haven't 
the  least  apprehension  of  any  danger,  but  it  is  well  to  be 
on  the  alert." 

"  Then  we  must  keep  watch  and  watch,"  said  the  boy 
earnestly.  "  "What  time  is  it  now  ?" 

A  ray  of  moonlight  enabled  Atherton  to  answer  :  ' '  Ten 
minutes  past  one." 

"  Then  I  will  sleep  two  hours,  and  you  must  wake  me, 
so  that  I  can  watch  while  you  sleep.  Promise  me  to  do  so, 
or  I  will  not  consent  to  sleep  at  all." 

"  Very  well,  I  promise.  Now  let  us  have  no  more  talk. 
In  fact,  I  am  going  to  stroll  about  a  little  while  I  smoke." 

"  You  will  not  go  far  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  I  shall  not  lose  sight  of  you.  Have  no 
fear." 

The  last  words,  instead  of  offending  the  listener  as  they 
might  have  done  a  little  earlier  in  their  adventure,  fell 
upon  his  ear  with  a  soothing  sound.  He  was  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life — as  he  had  truly  said — in  the  strong  grasp 
of  fear  :  that  passion,  or  emotion,  of  which  those  who  are 
physically  brave  know  so  little,  but  which  is  one  of  the 
worst  sufferings  the  human  soul  can  be  called  upon  to  en- 
dure. Every  fibre  of  his  body,  as  well  as  his  whole  spirit, 
was  sick  with  the  horror  of  the  appalling  scene  he  had  wit- 
nessed. He  could  not  divest  himself  of  the  fancy  that  the 
forest  around  was  filled  with  the  dark  faces  of  cannibal 
murderers  ;  and  all  the  stories  he  had  heard  in  the  Cape 
from  Mr.  Hoffman  and  his  friends  rose  in  memory — terri- 
ble stories  of  human  ghouls  robbing  graves  in  order  to  feed 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  203 

upon  the  dead  ;  or,  worse  yet,  of  those  who  had  been 
thrown  into  what  was  only  a  simulation  of  death  in  order 
that  they  might  be  resuscitated,  killed,  and  devoured  ;  of 
the  fearful  loup-garou — the  monster  whose  business  is  to 
steal  children  for  these  feasts  ;  of  a  slain  youth  found  with 
a  cane  driven  into  his  heart,  through  which  the  blood  had 
been  sucked  ;  of  an  unhappy  woman  taken  ill  on  the  road, 
whose  husband  left  her  in  a  wayside  house  while  he  rode  to 
the  nearest  town  for  medical  aid,  and  who,  returning, 
found  that  she  had  been  murdered — cut  into  pieces  and 
salted  down. 

These  blood-curdling  tales — all  resting,  though  he  had 
not  known  it  at  the  time,  on  absolute  evidence — might 
rouse  only  a  passing  shudder  when  told  on  a  pleasant 
veranda  with  lamplit  rooms  behind,  the  security  of  com- 
panionship and  the  near  neighborhood  of  power  ;  but  here, 
in  these  deep  mountains,  so  wild,  so  remote,  with  the  cele- 
bration of  a  cannibal  feast  near  at  hand,  and  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  an  escape  so  narrow  from  a  fate  the  most 
awful,  it  was  no  wonder  that  their  recollection  filled  the 
boy  with  a  thrill  of  terror  altogether  new  to  his  experience. 
So  he  had  asked,  like  a  child,  not  to  be  left  alone  ;  and 
there  was  comfort  in  the  sight  of  Atherton's  tall  form  pass- 
ing and  repassing  to  and  fro  ;  in  thinking  of  the  weapon 
he  carried  ;  in  reliance  upon  his  courage  and  resource 
already  so  abundantly  tested  ;  and  even  in  a  whiff  from  his 
cigar  which  came  now  and  then,  strangely  mingled  with 
the  aromatic  odors  of  unnumbered  plants  and  flowers. 
After  a  while  even  the  gleam  of  the  murderous  knife  was 
forgotten,  and  the  heart-piercing  cry  of  helpless  childhood  ; 
the  young  head  drooped,  and  Atherton,  when  he  ap- 
proached, saw  with  satisfaction  that  his  companion  was 
sleeping  the  deep  sleep  of  weariness  and  exhaustion. 


204  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

When  next  De  Marsillac  opened  his  eyes,  daylight  was 
all  around  him  ;  and  the  pale  man  standing  over  him  was 
saying  : 

"  Sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  it  is  time  we  were  moving." 

"  You  did  not  wake  me,  after  all  !' '  cried  the  boy,  spring- 
ing up.  "  You  broke  your  promise — you  let  me  sleep  all 
night!" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  cool  reply  ;  "  because  it  was  better  you 
should  sleep  at  night  than  that  you  should  break  down  by 
day.  How  do  you  feel  ?" 

' '  Quite  rested.  But  you  have  had  no  sleep  at  all.  How 
could  you  act  so?" 

"  For  the  very  good  reason  that  you  needed  sleep  and  I 
did  not — or,  at  least,  I  could  do  without  it.  I  am  glad  you 
are  feeling  better.  Here  are  three  or  four  bananas.  "When 
you  have  breakfasted  we  will  start." 

The  other  smiled  as  he  took  the  bananas. 

"  One  would  think  we  were  on  a  desert  island,"  he  said. 
And  then  the  smile  faded,  as  he  looked  up  with  a  recollec- 
tion of  horror  dawning  in  his  eyes.  "  Was  it  a  dream  ?" 
he  asked.  "  Did  we  really  see " 

' '  The  Vaudoux  worship  and  the  human  sacrifice  ?  Yes. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  there  was  no  dreaming  about  it.  But 
don't  think  of  it  now.  What  we  have  to  do  is  to  get  away 
from  here  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  am  ready  :  let  us  go  at  once.  I  shall  not  breathe 
freely  until  we  have  put  the  mountain  between  ourselves 
and  that  place  of  abominations." 

"  We  are  not  going  over  the  mourtain,"  replied  Ather- 
ton  calmly.  "  We  are  going  around  it,  by  the  trail  we 
partly  followed  yesterday,  and  which  must  lead  to  the  vil- 
lage we  have  seen." 

The  boy  started.    "  Do  you  mean  to  go  there  ?"  he  asked. 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  205 

"  Not  to  the  village  immediately.  I  hope  to  be  able,  by 
skirting  around  it,  to  escape  observation.  But  we  must 
find  that  trail.  I  cannot  risk  the  danger  of  further  wan- 
derings in  these  mountains,  when  there  must  be  a  path 
leading  out  of  this  valley,  to  find  which  will  mean  safety." 

"  But  if  we  should  be  seen  ? — they  will  know  that  we 
were  the  spectators  of  their  meeting  last  night." 

*'  Let  them  know  it.  Last  night  we  had  to  fear  the  rush 
of  a  multitude,  with  their  passions  already  inflamed  to  the 
utmost — human  tigers  thirsting  for  blood.  To-day  they  are 
scattered,  many  no  doubt  yet  helplessly  drunk  ;  those  who 
may  be  sober  capable  of  understanding  the  argument  of 
this,"  and  he  touched  significantly  the  pistol  in  his  pocket. 

De  Marsillac  turned  a  shade  paler  than  he  had  been  be- 
fore, and  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said 
slowly  : 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  to  take  the  fatigues 
and  dangers  of  the  mountains  rather  than  run  the  risk  of 
having  to  use  that  ?  If  you  killed  any  of  those  wretches 
and  even  escaped  with  your  life,  what  would  follow  in  a 
country  where  white  men  are  hated  and  justice  unknown  !" 

"  I  shall  not  kill  any  one  except  in  self-defence,"  an- 
swered Atherton.  "  Wretches  as  they  are,  I  have  no  de- 
sire to  be  their  executioner  ;  and  it  would  certainly  be  un- 
pleasant to  figure  in  a  Haytian  court  either  as  murdered  or 
murderer.  '  Apr&s  tout,  ce  n'est  qu'un  Wane  de  mains,' ' 
he  added  with  a  laugh,  recalling  the  story  Mr.  Hoffman 
had  told.  "  But  find  that  road  we  must.  So  allons  /" 

Retracing  their  steps  of  the  previous  night,  they  soon 
reached  the  margin  of  the  forest ;  and  saw  before  them 
again  the  Eden-like  valley,  with  its  picturesque  hamlet 
clustering  amid  groves  of  fruit-trees.  In  the  clear,  deli- 
cate light  of  early  morning — for  the  sun  had  not  yet  ap- 


206  THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

peared  over  the  high  crests  of  the  encircling  mountains — 
it  seemed  steeped  in  an  even  deeper  repose  than  when  be- 
held by  moonlight.  No  sign  of  human  presence  could  be 
perceived  about  it,  and  Atherton  repeated  his  opinion  that 
all  the  inhabitants  were  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  their 
orgy  of  the  night  before. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  looking  around  with  the  eye  of  a 
veteran  mountaineer,  "  I  begin  to  think  that  it  will  not  be 
necessary  for  us  to  enter  the  valley  at  all,  nor  even  to  skirt 
it  for  any  considerable  distance.  There  is  but  one  natural 
outlet  from  it,  and  that  is  the  gap  in  the  hills  on  our  left. 
We  will  make  for  that,  and  I  am  sure  we  shall  there  find 
a  trail." 

The  gap  of  which  he  spoke  was  on  the  eastern  side  of 
the  valley,  while  they  stood  on  the  northeastern  ;  so  that 
the  distance  between  the  two  points  was  not  very  great,  and 
there  was  no  necessity  for  leaving  the  shelter  of  the  woods  ; 
while,  to  the  great  relief  of  De  Marsillac,  they  increased 
their  distance  from  the  village  with  every  step.  These 
steps  were  also  less  difficult  than  if  taken  higher  on  the 
mountain  side,  where  the  forest  growth  was  so  dense  and 
the  riotous  parasites  so  many  that  progress  was  a  constant 
struggle.  On  this  lower  level  walking  was  easier  ;  and, 
since  they  made  all  possible  haste,  they  reached  the  gap 
within  an  hour  ;  and  found,  as  Atherton  had  anticipated, 
a  well-defined  trail  leading  through  it. 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  so  much  !"  said  Atherton  when 
they  had  turned  their  backs  on  the  valley  and  village. 
"  Now  we  must  pray  that  we  may  meet  no  wayfarers  to  re- 
port our  presence  here.  This  would  make  a  perfect  place 
of  ambush." 

It  was  not  a  cheerful  suggestion,  but  of  the  fact  there 
was  no  doubt.  This  narrow  pass  through  the  mountains, 


THE   MA*T   OF   THE    FAMILY.  207 

with  its  trail  running  along  the  side  of  a  steep  height, 
densely  wooded  above,  and  with  a  green  chasm  below,  in 
which  could  be  heard  but  not  seen  the  tumbling  fall  of 
waters,  offered  every  facility  for  assassination.  No  better 
covert  could  a  murderer  desire  than  the  thickets  overhang- 
ing the  path  ;  and  no  better  hiding-place,  were  hiding- 
place  desired,  for  the  body  of  his  victim  than  the  verdure- 
filled  arroyo  below. 

But  (he  two  who  now  followed  the  trail  had  stout  hearts. 
Although  they  knew  not  what  moment  might  bring  them 
face  to  face  with  some  one  bound  for  the  village,  who 
would  carry  there  the  news  of  the  presence  of  strange 
white  men,  they  walked  on  with  cheerfulness  and  energy  ; 
inspirited  by  finding  themselves  on  a  path  instead  of  wan- 
dering through  the  trackless  forest ;  and  yet  more  inspirit- 
ed by  leaving  behind  the  scene  of  all  the  horrors  of  the 
night.  Now  and  then  Atherton  glanced  at  his  companion 
with  mingled  wonder  and  admiration.  How  slight  he 
looked  ! — how  frail  a  frame  for  such  work  as  this — for  long 
hours  of  weary  tramping,  of  exposure,  fasting  and  danger  ! 
Yet  what  a  brave  spirit  animated  that  slender  body  and 
looked  out  of  those  clear,  brown  eyes  !  After  they  had 
been  walking  for  about  two  hours,  he  uttered  a  thought 
which  had  been  in  his  mind  for  some  time  : 

"  Since  we  have  come  so  far  in  safety,  we  might  rest  for 
a  short  while.  We  are  neither  of  us  in  very  good  condition 
for  athletic  exercise  this  morning." 

The  boy  glanced  at  him  suspiciously. 

''1  think,"  he  said,  "  that  you  suggest  that  on  my  ac- 
count. But  I  am  not  such  a  weakling  as  you  imagine. 
Eemember,  /-slept  last  night." 

"  But  /  did  not.  So  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  be  a 
little  tired.  We  will  take  fifteen  minutes  for  rest ;  and, 


208  THE   MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

that  our  minds  may  be  at  ease,  we  will  conceal  ourselves 
while  doing  so." 

He  led  the  way  as  he  spoke  up  the  hillside  which  rose 
above  them,  and  where  they  found  themselves  in  the  midst 
of  the  same  riotous  tangle  of  every  variety  of  plants  and 
creepers  with  which  they  were  already  so  unhappily  famil- 
iar. A  few  steps  were  sufficient  to  put  them  in  perfect 
seclusion  ;  for  entering  within  the  shelter  of  one  of  those 
strange  fig  parasites — which,  having  seized  and  strangled 
in  their  embrace  some  stately  tree,  drop  their  long  tendrils 
to  the  ground  from  its  branches,  thus  forming  a  green  tent 
— they  were  absolutely  secure  from  observation. 

Still,  the  boy  was  not  at  ease  in  mind. 

"  You  are  doing  this  on  my  account,"  he  repeated.  "  I 
am  certain  that,  on  your  own,  you  would  not  halt  when 
haste  is  so  necessary.  And  I  assure  you  that  I  am  perfect- 
ly capable  of  going  on." 

"  You  will  be  yet  more  capable  when  our  rest  is  over," 
replied  Atherton.  "  You  must  remember  that  we  have 
already  taken  a  great  deal  out  of  ourselves,  and  have  had 
nothing  to  sustain  our  strength  but  a  few  bananas." 

"  All  the  same,  you  would  not  do  it  if  you  were  alone," 
persisted  the  boy.  "  You  think  that  I  will  break  down 
again  as  I  did  last  night,  and  I  don't  blame  you  for  think- 
ing so.  I  behaved  like  a  fool,  and  a  very  weak  one  at  that. 
In  consequence,  I  am  suffering  all  the  pangs  of  self-con- 
tempt this  morning.  But  I  am  not  going  to  repeat  my 
folly  and  weakness." 

"  That  is  exactly  as  I  thought,"  said  Atherton.  "  You 
would  prefer  to  drop  in  your  tracks,  as  you  admitted  last 
night  that  you  came  near  doing.  But  I  object  to  so  ill- 
judged  a  display  of  the  triumph  of  spirit  over  matter.  My 
dear  boy,  you  remind  me  forcibly  of  some  valorous  young 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  209 

recruit  whose  bravery  outruns  his  physical  powers,  and 
who  has  not  yet  learned  discretion,  or  patience  with  those 
limitations  of  strength  which  exist,  in  more  or  less  degree, 
for  all  of  us." 

"  Ah,  you  are  kind  to  try  to  restore  my  self-respect! 
But  I  can  never  forget  how  I  failed  last  night,"  answered 
the  other.  ' '  Nor  can  I  ever  forget  that  you  saved  my  life, 
in  return  for  my  endangering  yours. ' ' 

"  Well,  are  we  not  told  to  return  good  for  evil  ?"  laughed 
Atherton.  "  Bah  !  you  make  too  much  of  all  this.  By 
the  time  we  have  gone  round  the  world  together,  and  been 
in  a  dozen  or  more  adventures,  you  will  take  such  trifles  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Now  let  us  talk  of  Millefleurs,  where 
I  hope  we  shall  be  to-night." 

"To-night!"  (in  a  tone  of  incredulity).  "  Where  do 
you  think  we  are  now  ?" 

"  Unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  very  near  the  place 
where  we  left  our  horses." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?" 

' '  I  think  so  from  the  general  direction  we  are  following, 
and  from  the  fact  that  this  trail  is  evidently  on  the  other  side 
of  the  mountain,  upon  the  flank  of  which  we  lost  our  way. 
It  will,  I  believe,  finally  lead  us  safely  around  to  the  mouth 
of  the  canon  where  I  found  the  drift  from  the  gold  vein." 

"  Oh,  then,  pray  let  us  get  on  !  There  is  surely  no  rea- 
son why  we  should  waste  time  here." 

"  The  time  is  not  wasted  that  recruits  one's  strength. 
However,  since  you  are  so  anxious,  we  will  be  moving.  I 
wish  I  had  some  definite  idea  how  much  farther  we  shall 
have  to  go,  and  whether  we  shall  find  our  people  where  we 
left  them." 

"  What  would  have  become  of  them  if  they  are  not  there  ? 
They  surely  would  not  go  away  without  us. ' ' 


210  THE   MAX   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  There  is  no  telling  what  folly  those  who  are  accustomed 
only  to  act  under  orders  may  commit  when  left  to  them- 
selves. But  I  have  some  reliance  on  Gilbert.  He  has  a 
strong  habit  of  unquestioning  obedience,  which  may  keep 
him  quietly  waiting  until  I  appear." 

.  He  proved  to  be  right — in  degree,  at  least.  Waiting  for 
them  Gilbert  was  ;  but  not  very  quietly,  as  they  discovered 
by  the  time  they  had  advanced  a  mile  or  two  farther.  For 
suddenly  as  they  walked  on  through  the  wild,  beautiful 
solitude,  they  were  startled  by  a  sound  of  distant  firing. 

"  "What  on  earth  can  that  be  !"  cried  Atherton,  pausing 
to  listen.  "  Pistol  shots  !  Can  our  men  have  been  at- 
tacked, or  are  they  fighting  a  duel  ?" 

"  Perhaps  they  are  firing  as  a  signal  to  us,"  suggested 
De  Marsillac. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  they  are  doing,"  said  Atherton, 
as,  after  a  short  interval,  another  shot  or  two  were  heard. 
"  Gilbert  thinks  we  may  be  guided  by  the  sound.  That 
settles  the  question  of  our  being  in  the  right  way,  and  of 
their  being  where  we  left  them.  Now  let  us  see  if  they 
can  hear  a  shout." 

About  ten  minutes  later  the  men  and  horses  were  in 
sight ;  and  the  long,  weary  tramp  of  the  wanderers  ended 
where  it  had  begun. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

IT  was  late  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day  when  a  very 
tired  party  arrived  again  at  the  gate  of  Millefleurs.  Many 
hours  had  passed  since  the  two  wanderers  found  themselves 
back  in  the  place  whence  they  started,  and  every  one  of 


THE   MAST   OF   THE   FAMILY.  211 

those  hours  had  been  filled  with  employment  of  one  kind 
or  another.  Atherton's  energy  was  astonishing.  No  one 
familiar  with  the  aspect  of  the  languid  passenger  who  had 
lounged  on  the  deck  of  the  New  York  would  have  recog- 
nized him  in  the  man  who  so  indefatigably  exerted  him- 
self and  compelled  exertion  on  the  part  of  others.  For 
finding  that,  owing  to  his  absence  and  the  consequent  alarm 
it  had  excited,  no  more  ore  had  been  brought  down  than 
the  single  sack  he  had  sent  by  Gilbert,  his  first  act,  after 
the  pressing  bodily  needs  of  himself  and  his  companion  had 
been  attended  to,  was  to  dispatch  the  men  for  a  further 
supply.  Then,  after  a  very  short  rest,  and  despite  the 
remonstrances  of  De  Marsillac,  he  returned  himself  to  the 
head  of  the  gorge,  in  order  to  select  the  best  specimens 
from  the  vein.  All  of  this  occupied  time  ;  following  came 
the  loading  of  the  ore  upon  the  horses,  the  slow  return  to 
Milot,  the  bargaining  there  for  another  pack-animal  to 
divide  the  load — secured  with  much  difficulty  through  the 
good  offices  and  on  the  security  of  the  schoolmaster — and 
finally  the  journey  to  Millefleurs. 

One  point,  however,  was  successfully  achieved  as  a  direct 
result  of  their  misadventure — the  guide  was  dismissed.  To 
get  rid  of  him  before  the  important  search  should  be  made 
had  been  a  difficulty  which  confronted  them  all  along,  and 
which  chance  now  happily  removed.  For  in  consequence 
of  a  night-long  vigil,  together  with  much  unaccustomed 
labor  with  the  pick,  this  gentleman  of  leisure  found  him- 
self more  completely  used  up  than  were  the  two  young  men 
who  had  tramped  all  night  over  the  hills.  When  he 
learned,  on  reaching  Milot,  that  they  did  not  intend  to 
take  the  direct  road  to  the  Cape,  but  to  diverge  again  to 
the  old  sugar  estate,  he  evinced  so  much  reluctance  and 
carried  his  protests  so  far  that  Atherton  summarily  die- 


212  THE  MAN  OF  THE   FAMILY. 

missed  him,  with  permission  to  take  his  way  to  the  Cape 
by  any  road  that  pleased  him.  Then,  greatly  relieved, 
they  turned  their  own  faces  in  the  direction  of  Mille- 
fleurs. 

As  a  result  of  these  many  delays,  it  was  dusk  when  they 
reached  the  old,  carved  pillars  at  the  entrance  to  the  ave- 
nue of  palms.  Riding  up  this  avenue,  the  fading  light 
veiled  all  signs  of  decay  in  the  house  they  were  approach- 
ing until  it  almost  seemed  as  if  lights  might  gleam  from  its 
windows  and  hospitable  figures  come  hastening  forward  to 
greet  them  as  they  neared  the  broad  terrace  before  it.  So 
strong  was  this  impression  that  there  was  something  of  a 
shock  in  the  aspect  of  the  dark  and  silent  ruin  which  con- 
fronted them,  with  its  roofless  walls  and  empty  chambers, 
when  they  ascended  the  terrace  steps  ;  for,  striking  as  had 
been  its  sadness  by  day,  it  was  far  more  striking  now  in  this 
waning  twilight,  that  in  itself  was  full  of  infinitely  melan- 
choly suggestions. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  indulge  in  the  thoughts  and 
memories  it  roused,  since  they  had  the  practical  work  be- 
fore them  of  making  all  their  preparations  for  the  night 
before  darkness  fell. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Henri — do  you  care  to  spend  one 
night  of  your  life  within  your  ancestral  walls,  if  not  ex- 
actly under  your  ancestral  roof?"  Atherton  asked  of  his 
companion,  and  smiled  at  the  emphatic  negative  he  re- 
ceived. 

"  I  shall  see  ghosts  enough  outside,"  the  boy  answered. 
"  I  have  no  desire  to  meet  the  company  which  would  mar- 
shal within." 

"  Then  we  will  not  intrude  upon  them,"  said  Atherton. 
"  But  I  hardly  imagine  they  will  object  to  our  camping 
here  on  the  terrace.  I  think,  however,  that  we  need  not 


THE  MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  213 

pitch  the  tent.  We  are  not  likely  to  sleep  very  much  to- 
night." 

"  I  should  think  not !"  returned  the  other,  whose  pulses 
were  beating  so  excitedly  that  he  marvelled  to  hear  the 
thought  suggested.  "What  he  would  have  liked  would  have 
been  to  go  directly,  without  delay  even  for  refreshment, 
and  settle,  once  for  all,  the  question  of  what  was  to  be  found 
in  Henri  de  Marsillac's  hiding-place  beside  the  old  sun- 
dial. 

He  was  forced  to  repress  his  impatience  while  supper  was 
prepared  and  taken — his  own  performance,  or  lack  of  per- 
formance, with  regard  to  it  calling  forth  strong  rebuke 
from  Atherton — and  then  to  witness  preparations  for  re- 
pose instead  of  for  the  labors  which  awaited  them. 

"  We  will  sleep  until  midnight,"  Atherton  announced. 
"  The  moon  will  by  that  time  be  risen,  and  we  can  go  to 
work." 

"  I — hoped  we  should  go  to  work  at  once,"  said  De  Mar- 
sillac  in  a  disappointed  tone.  "  We  would  sleep  better 
after  we  had  satisfied  ourselves.'* 

"  You  might,"  Atherton  replied;  "but  I  can  answer 
for  Gilbert  and  myself  that  we  shall  sleep  very  well  before 
undertaking  any  more  work,  and  shall  then  work  better  for 
having  slept." 

"  I  am  a  selfish  wretch  to  forget  how  tired  you  must  be, 
and  that  you  did  not  sleep  at  all  last  night/'  said  the  boy 
remorsefully.  "  Of  course  you  must  rest.  But  I  shall  not 
sleep,  so  I  will  be  able  to  wake  you  at  whatever  hour  you 
desire." 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  that.  You  must  take  some 
rest  also.  I  shall  wake  easily  enough,  never  doubt." 

"  There  is  nothing  I  could  not  sooner  do  than  sleep  here 
— to-night,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  tone  of  such  earnestness 


214  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

that  his  companion  perceived  the  futility  of  further  remon- 
strance. 

Indeed  Atherton's  heart  smote  him  a  little  for  condemn- 
ing the  speaker  to  several  hours  longer  of  suspense  ;  but, 
apart  from  the  fact  that  he  was  by  this  time  physically 
worn  out,  and  knew  his  servant  to  be  very  nearly  the  same, 
he  also  knew  that  it  was  necessary  to  wait  until  the  moon 
had  risen  before  they  commenced  the  work  that  lay  before 
them.  Saying,  therefore,  "  I  hope  you'll  think  better  of  it 
and  go  to  sleep  ;  but  if  you  should  be  awake,  call  me  at 
twelve,"  he  threw  himself  into  his  hammock  and  was  soon 
sleeping  soundly. 

But  De  Marsillac  had  been  right  in  affirming  that  noth- 
ing was  less  possible  to  himself  than  to  sleep  in  this  spot, 
haunted  by  so  many  associations  ;  on  this  night  which  was 
to  decide  whether  his  long  journey,  with  all  the  risks  it 
involved,  had  been  taken  in  vain  or  was  to  be  fully  reward- 
ed. While  Atherton  slept,  he  paced  like  a  sentinel  up  and 
down  the  terrace  in  the  wonderful  tropical  starlight,  which 
makes  the  term  darkness,  as  applied  to  night  in  these  re- 
gions, a  mere  form  of  expression.  The  obscurity  was  no 
more  than  a  softening  reil  thrown  over  the  wide  landscape, 
every  feature  of  which  stood  clearly  revealed  in  the  exqui- 
site radiance  of  the  shining  worlds,  thick-sown  on  a  field  of 
deepest  blue. 

It  was  a  memorable  vigil — one  never  to  be  forgotten  by 
the  young  spirit,  which  was  thrilling  with  imaginations. 
What  a  company  indeed  of  ghosts  were  about  him  as  he 
paced  to  and  fro  before  the  ruined  home  of  his  race  !  From 
the  shattered  walls  and  empty  doorways  came  the  shades  of 
the  gay,  luxurious  men  and  women  of  the  past,  bowing 
over  jewelled  snuff-boxes,  rustling  silken  petticoats  fresh 
from  Paris,  telling  the  last  scandal  from  the  court  of  Ver- 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  215 

sallies.  And  behind  them  followed  dark,  savage  forms  with 
knife  and  torch— children  beyond  seas  of  that  hydra-headed 
monster,  the  Revolution  of  France.  The  gay  figures  were 
swept  away  in  a  hurricane  of  tears  and  blood  ;  the  sky  grew 
red  with  the  flames  of  burning  homes  ;  and  a  lurid  cloud 
of  carnage  and  barbarism,  never  again  to  be  lifted,  settled 
upon  the  land.  For  how  dark  that  cloud  remained,  who 
could  know  better  than  one  who  had  witnessed  only  last 
night  the  scene  he  shuddered  to  recall,  the  terrible  scene 
of  devil  worship  and  cannibal  murder  ?  Despite  his  efforts 
to  keep  his  mind  from  the  awful  memory,  it  returned  again 
and  yet  again  to  that  picture,  which  seemed  the  supreme 
expression  of  all  that  this  fated  island — made  by  God  so 
fair,  rendered  by  man  so  horrible — had  shown  him.  From 
the  dark  ruins  of  the  Cape,  with  their  sinister  and  tragic 
memories,  to  the  great  fortress  built  by  infernal  cruelty 
and  cemented  by  blood,  the  desolated  plains  and  deep  for- 
ests had  but  one  story  to  tell,  and  that  story  was  epito- 
mized in  the  gleam  of  a  deadly  knife  and  a  child's  helpless 
cry.  "  Haiti,  Haiti,  pays  de  barbares  !"  What  could  the 
descendant  of  men  who  had  once  made  it  the  wonder  of  the 
world  for  fruitfulness  and  wealth  add  to  these  true  and  bit- 
ter words  from  imperial  lips  ? 

In  thoughts  and  fancies  like  these  the  long  hours  passed, 
until  at  last  the  moon  came  up  the  eastern  heaven — a 
strange,  mournful  presence,  as  the  waning  moon  ever  is, 
but  still  able  to  flood  the  world  with  silver  light.  Her 
rays,  shining  in  his  face,  presently  awoke  Atherton  ;  and, 
starting  up,  he  looked  around.  A  slender,  dark  figure  was 
standing  at  the  edge  of  the  terrace,  silhouetted  against  the 
wide  radiance  which  had  paled  the  stars. 

"  Henri  !"  he  cried — and  then  as  the  boy  turned,  "  Why 
have  you  not  called  me  ?  Is  it  not  time  ?" 


216  THE    MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

"It  is  half -past  eleven,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  was  wait- 
ing for  twelve  o'clock." 

"  And  you  have  not  rested  at  all  !  Foolish  boy  !  Well, 
since  her  lunar  majesty  is  fairly  risen,  eleven  will  answer 
for  us  as  well  as  twelve.  Here,  Gilbert ! — wake  up,  man  ! 
It  is  time  to  go  to  work." 

Gilbert  rather  slowly  arose ;  and  if  he  had  given  utter- 
ance to  the  thoughts  in  his  mind,  he  would  probably  have 
declared  that  a  master  less  given  to  the  pursuit  of  adven- 
ture was  to  be  desired  by  a  servant  who,  on  engaging  to 
perform  the  duties  of  a  valet,  had  not  anticipated  being 
called  upon  to  supplement  them  with  the  tasks  of  a  miner 
and  treasure-seeker.  Nevertheless,  when  he  had  shaken  off 
the  sluggishness  of  sleep,  even  his  phlegmatic  soul  felt  a 
faint  thrill  of  the  expectation  and  suspense  which  filled  the 
others,  as,  shouldering  the  picks,  they  took  their  way 
towards  the  second  terrace  of  the  garden,  as  Henri  de  Mar- 
sillac  and  his  faithful  Jacques  had  taken  their  way  on  that 
August  night  a  hundred  years  gone  by. 

Beaching  the  circle  with  less  difficulty  than  on  their 
former  visit — for  Gilbert  wielded  a  cutlass  with  good  effect 
in  clearing  a  path — they  found  it  sufficiently  illuminated 
by  the  moon's  rays  to  dispense  with  any  other  light.  Very 
few  words  were  spoken  as  they  set  themselves  to  the  task 
in  hand.  First  thoroughly  clearing  the  ground  around  the 
dial,  which  had  so  well  and  so  long  stood  guard  over  its 
trust,  they  fell  to  work  digging — Gilbert  and  his  master 
alternately  using  the  pick  ;  for  De  Marsillac  proved  quite 
as  incapable  of  effective  labor  as  Atherton  had  foretold 
when  he  observed  his  hands  the  day  they  sat  together  on 
the  beach  of  Turk's  Island. 

"  Your  will  is  good  enough,"  he  said,  after  the  boy  had 
made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  do  his  part  of  the  labor  re- 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  217 

quired  ;  "  but  your  strength  amounts  to  nothing.  Give 
me  the  pick." 

There  was  no  alternative  but  to  obey— the  most  gallant 
will  in  the  world  being  unable  to  create  muscular  strength. 
And  so  the  person  chiefly  concerned  in  that  which  was 
sought  was  forced  to  stand  by  inactive  while  the  search 
was  conducted. 

But  the  work  required  was,  after  all,  not  very  great. 
Evidently  time  pressed  when  Henri  de  Marsillac  and  his 
servant  had  likewise  worked  here  ;  and  their  shallow  hid- 
ing-place would  soon  have  yielded  its  treasure  had  suspicion 
ever  been  directed  to  the  spot.  For  the  excavation  of  the 
searchers  had  not  reached  a  depth  of  more  than  two  feet 
when  there  was  a  sudden,  sharp  sound,  as  the  pick — at  that 
moment  in  Gilbert's  hand — struck  on  metal.  De  Marsil- 
lac, who  was  leaning  against  the  sun-dial,  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation as  sharp  ;  while  Atherton,  quietly  looking  on 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  called  out  to  Gilbert : 

"  You  have  struck  it  !    Go  on  at  that  spot." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  top  of  an  iron-bound  chest  was 
laid  bare  ;  twenty  minutes  later  two  men  were  eagerly  dig- 
ging around  it ;  and  thirty  minutes  later  they  had  made 
their  excavation  sufficiently  large  to  attempt  to  lift  it  out. 
But  the  attempt  resulted  in  a  complete  failure  ;  the  weight 
which  it  contained  was  beyond  their  joint  strength  to  stir. 

"  By  Jove  !"  said  Atherton,  looking  up  at  the  pale  boy 
who  stood  on  the  margin  of  the  excavation,  "you  have  found 
your  fortune  indeed  !  This  chest  must  weigh  at  least  a 
thousand  pounds.  It  is  useless  to  think  of  lifting  it  with- 
out further  assistance,  and  that  cannot  be  had.  So  we 
must  open  it  where  it  stands." 

"  How  do  you  suppose  that  two  men  brought  it  here  in 
the  first  place  ?"  asked  De  Marsillac. 


218  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

"  They  did  not  bring  it  here  filled.  They  must  have 
deposited  the  chest  and  then  filled  it — as  we  must  empty 
it.  Do  you  observe  how  much  it  resembles  those  treasure- 
chests  of  Christophe  that  we  saw  at  the  citadel  ?  Evident- 
ly every  planter  possessed  such  a  receptacle  for  the  safe- 
keeping of  money  and  valuables.  And  since  the  key  of 
this  was  taken  away  in  the  pocket  of  its  owner,  we  must 
imitate  the  soldiery  of  Christophe  and  break  the  lock. 
Give  it  a  few  blows  with  the  pick,  Gilbert. " 

A  few  blows  well  directed,  and  the  work  was  done. 
Then,  stepping  aside,  Atherton  motioned  the  boy,  still 
standing  above,  to  descend. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  and  lift  the  lid.  You  alone  have 
the  right  to  do  so." 

It  was  a  moment  of  such  intense  excitement  and  suspense 
that  the  speaker  did  not  wonder  to  see  how  the  slender 
hand  trembled  as  it  lifted  the  lid. 

What  they  beheld  was  a  sight  which  again  carried  them 
back  to  that  long  past  night  of  terror,  and  made  them  feel 
as  if  its  very  breath  was  upon  them.  For  they  could  per- 
ceive with  what  frantic  haste  articles  of  all  kinds  had  been 
flung  headlong  into  the  chest  before  it  was  closed  and 
locked.  That  which  first  met  the  eye  was  a  piece  of  amber 
satin,  some  rich  drapery  apparently,  that  had  been  torn 
down  to  form  a  covering  under  the  lid.  This  removed, 
they  saw  beneath  a  quantity  of  silver  plate — massive,  richly 
chased  and  much  tarnished — with  which  were  mingled  in- 
discriminately jewel-cases,  and  boxes  evidently  containing 
trinkets  and  articles  of  value. 

"Take  out  that  plate,  Gilbert,"  said  Atherton,  as  the 
owner  stood  silent  and  motionless,  looking  down  on 
the  disordered  mass,  as  if  struck  afresh  with  the  infinite 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  219 

pity  of  the  old  tragedy.  "  We  must  see  what  is  be- 
neath." 

He  stooped  as  he  spoke,  and  himself  lifted  one  of  the 
jewel-cases,  touched  the  spring  and  threw  back  its  top. 
There  was  an  immediate  flash  of  diamonds,  as  brilliant  as 
if  they  had  not  lain  buried  in  darkness  for  a  century.  In- 
deed, there  seemed  an  accumulated  brilliance  in  the  flood 
of  light  they  emitted  as  the  soft  moonbeams  fell  upon  them 
for  the  first  time  in  a  hundred  years. 

"Jewels  for  a  princess  !"  Atherton  exclaimed.  "  You 
have  reason  to  thank  your  ancestor  for  saving  these,  Henri." 

"  A  necklace  !"  said  De  Marsillac,  taking  the  case  con- 
taining the  sparkling  ornament  in  his  hand.  "  It  shall  be 
for  Diane.  It  seems  made  for  her  neck." 

Atherton  smiled  as  he  looked  at  the  speaker.  He  liked 
the  boy's  devotion  to  his  sister  ;  and  a  pleasant  vision  rose 
before  his  own  imagination  of  a  fair,  slender  throat  around 
which  those  dazzling  gems  might  fitly  clasp. 

"  The  woman  does  not  live  who  would  not  be  enchanted 
with  such  a  gift,"  he  said.  "  It  may  be  that  you  will  find 
your  fortune  rests  chiefly  in  these  jewels.  They  are  of 
great  value  as  well  as  beauty." 

"  No,"  the  other  answered.  "  My  great-great-grandfa- 
ther speaks  expressly,  in  the  paper  of  which  I  have  told 
you,  of  jewels  and  plate  as  well  as  of  gold.  We  have  found 
the  jewels  and  the  plate  :  the  gold  must  be  here." 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir  !"  said  Gilbert,  who  had  now  lifted 
out  the  heavy  silver,  consisting  of  massive  dishes  and  richly 
ornamented  vessels  of  many  kinds  ;  ' '  but  I  think  the  gold 
is  'ere." 

Atherton  and  the  boy  looked  eagerly  into  the  chest,  and 
saw  a  number  of  bags  of  soft  leather,  tied  tightly  and 
packed  closely  together — so  closely  indeed  that  it  required 


220  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

considerable  effort  to  dislodge  and  draw  forth  one.  Once 
drawn  forth,  the  string  confining  its  mouth  dropped  away 
at  a  touch  ;  and,  opening  it,  the  boy  took  forth  a  handful 
of  yellow,  shining  pieces — louis-d'ors,  as  a  glance  showed. 
The  gold  was  found. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  as  he  held  out  his  hand  for 
the  other  to  see.  And  meanwhile  before  his  mental  gaze 
stood  two  pictures,  clear  as  if  beheld  with  bodily  eyes. 
Not  the  haunting  shades  of  Henri  de  Marsillac  and  his 
faithful  servant  burying  this  'gold  with  feverish  haste — for 
the  moment  they  were  forgotten — but  a  group  of  youthful 
figures  on  the  gallery  of  an  old  house  ;  and  a  girl  who, 
pointing  to  the  crescent  of  the  moon  now  shining  above 
them  in  the  tropic  heaven,  said,  "  A  fortune  as  distant  as  if 
it  were  yonder  ;  but  perhaps  existing,  for  all  that. ' '  And 
again  :  the  shaded  lamplight  falling  on  the  faces  of  two 
women  grown  old  in  sorrow  and  bereavement,  and  on  fair 
young  faces  unfitted  for  the  harsh  struggle  of  life  ;  while, 
as  one  who  utters  a  vow,  the  same  girl  cried,  "  With  the 
help  of  God  I  will  find  that  money,  if  it  still  remains  where 
Henri  de  Marsillac  placed  it !" 

And  now  it  was  found.  And  had  not  God  helped  the 
brave,  unselfish  heart  ?  Had  He  not  raised  up  a  friend  but 
for  whom  success  would  have  been  impossible  ?  Even  as 
Atherton  was  saying,  "  My  dear  boy,  I  congratulate  you 
with  all  my  heart,"  the  gold  dropped  in  a  shower  at  his 
feet,  and  he  found  his  hand  imprisoned  in  the  clasp  of  two 
other  hands,  while  a  voice  broken  with  a  hint  of  tears 
cried  : 

"  But  for  you  I  should  never  have  found  it  !" 
***** 

"  Now,"  said  Atherton,  a  little  later,  "  a  very  important 
part  of  our  work  is  yet  to  come.  We  have  to  provide  for 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  221 

safely  smuggling  this  gold  into  the  Cape  and  out  of  the 
country.  And  in  this  you  will  see  the  useful  part  which 
my  sacks  of  ore — those  sacks  which  you  were  so  impatient 
with  me  for  spending  time  in  filling — will  play.  Gilbert, 
go  and  bring  one  of  them  here." 

As  Gilbert  departed,  Atherton  went  on  : 

"  I  fear  we  must  leave  the  plate.  It  is  too  bulky  to  take 
away  in  addition  to  the  gold.  I  am  sorry  for  the  necessity, 
since  not  only  is  it  exceedingly  handsome,  but  would  be  of 
untold  value  to  you  from  its  age  and  family  association. 
But  there  is  no  help  for  it  :  the  sacrifice  must  be  made." 

"It  is  so  slight  a  sacrifice,  comparatively,  that  I  shall 
not  grieve  over  it,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  know  that  you  are 
right :  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  take  away  anything  so 
bulky." 

"  It  would  be  to  risk — nay,  almost  certainly  to  incur — 
detection,  and  the  loss  of  what  is  far  more  important.  So, 
when  we  have  taken  out  all  the  gold,  we  will  put  the  silver 
back  in  the  chest  and  cover  it  up  again.  Perhaps  a  hun- 
dred years  hence  your  great-great-grandson  may  come  to 
find  it." 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  answered  the  other  :  "  I  shall 
never  come  myself.  Let  me  once  leave  this  horrible  island, 
and  not  ten  times  the  value  of  what  lies  before  us  here 
would  bring  me  back  again." 

"  The  same  inducement  which  brought  you  now  would 
if  necessary  bring  you  back  again,"  said  Atherton,  "  or  I 
am  greatly  mistaken  in  you." 

"  Yes"  (reflectively),  "  for  the  same  purpose  I  would  do 
as  much  again.  But,  thank  God,  it  can  never  need  to  be 
done  again  !  Diane's  ransom  is  here." 

"  How  much  is  required  for  the  ransom  ?" 

"  The  debt  is  twenty  thousand  dollars." 


222  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  You  have  it  and  to  spare,  many  times  over.  In  that 
chest  there  is  gold  to  the  value  of  at  least  a  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"Ho  wean  you  tell?" 

"  By  a  very  simple  calculation  of  the  number  and  weight 
of  the  bags.  And  that  sum  was  a  small  price  for  anything 
so  valuable  as  a  sugar  estate  in  this  island  in  the  old  days. ' ' 

"  Perhaps  it  was  a  small  estate,  or  perhaps  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  times  was  taken  into  consideration  in  the 
price.  At  all  events,  I  am  grateful  that  it  was  sold  for  any 
price  ;  and  grateful  beyond  measure  to  Henri  de  Marsillac 
who  placed  that  price  in  safety  here." 

"  Don't  forget  to  be  grateful  for  the  jewels,  of  which 
there  seems  to  be  many  besides  the  diamonds.  Here  are 
some  beautiful  emeralds.  You  will  be  immortalized  in  the 
family  annals  when  you  go  home  laden  with  these  spoils." 

"  They  will  all  be  pleased,"  said  the  boy,  thinking  of 
the  eager  young  faces  that  would  bend  delighted  over  such 
fascinating  heirlooms  of  the  past. 

Atherton,  pursuing  his  researches,  then  lifted  the  lid  of 
a  box  of  sandal-wood.  Within  was  a  great  confusion  of 
trinkets  :  lockets,  rings,  chains,  miniatures.  One  of  the 
last,  set  in  a  frame  of  pearls,  he  held  up  to  the  light,  which 
was  sufficiently  bright  to  show  that  it  was  a  picture  of  a 
lovely  young  woman,  dressed  and  coiffed  in  a  fashion  of 
two  hundred  years  ago. 

"Here  is  a  treasure,"  he  exclaimed.  "An  ancestress 
who  carries  her  patent  of  nobility  in  her  face.  Ah  !  why 
do  not  women  look  like  this  now  ?" 

"  Diane  looks  like  it,"  said  the  boy,  taking  the  minia- 
ture from  his  hand.  "It  might  almost  be  a  likeness  of 
her."  He  turned  it  over,  and  engraved  on  the  golden  back 
read  the  name,  "  Yvonne  d'Aulnay."  "  Ah,  I  know  who 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  223 

it  is  now  I"  he  said.  "  She  was  the  wife  of  Raoul  de  Mar- 
sillac,  of  whom  I  have  told  you — the  first  of  the  family 
who  came  over  here.  In  some  way  she  impressed  herself 
deeply  on  the  memory  of  her  descendants  ;  for  I  don't 
think  there  has  been  a  generation  since  which  has  not  had 
an  Yvonne." 

"  Yvonne  ! — a  quaint  but  charming  name.  Breton,  I 
think." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Breton  without  doubt." 

"  It  suggests  the  noble  chatelaine  of  some  old  chateau  in 
wave-washed  Brittany,  as  much  as  Diane  suggests  a  beauty 
of  the  court.  Have  you  an  Yvonne  as  well  as  a  Diane  in 
your  own  generation  ?" 

"  Certainly.     It  is  my " 

In  Heaven's  name,  what  was  he  about  to  say  ?  An  in- 
stant more  and  the  heedless  tongue  would  have  told  all. 
Absolutely  cold  with  horror  at  the  narrowness  of  the  es- 
cape, he  paused  abruptly  in  a  manner  which  could  not  have 
failed  to  arouse  Atherton's  surprise  if  Gilbert  had  not  cre- 
ated a  diversion  at  the  moment  by  staggering  into  the  cir- 
cle with  the  sack  of  ore.  - 

The  beautiful  miniature  and  the  unfinished  speech  were 
at  once  forgotten,  and  Atherton  eagerly  went  to  work  to 
assist  in  the  carrying  out  of  his  plan  with  regard  to  the 
gold.  The  greater  part  of  the  ore  was  emptied  out  of  the 
sack,  which  held  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  ;  the 
bags  of  gold,  weighing  each  ten  pounds  or  thereabouts, 
were  then  placed  in  it— care  being  taken  to  make  them  as 
much  of  a  solid  mass  as  possible  in  the  centre,  and  to  line 
the  sides  with  pieces  of  ore,  of  which  a  number  were  also 
placed  on  top  before  the  sack  was  closed.  This  done, 
Atherton  felt  it  carefully  over  ;  lifted  it  from  the  ground 
and  set  it  down  again,  to  be  sure  that  no  jingling  sound 


224  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

was  heard  to  betray  the  presence  of  coin  ;  and  then  de- 
clared that  no  one  could  possibly  suppose  it  to  be  other 
than  what  it  purported  to  be — a  sack  of  ore. 

It  was  then  conveyed  away  ;  another  brought,  and  the 
same  operation  repeated  ;  a  process  which  was  continued 
until  the  sacks  which  they  had  filled  with  ore  were  all  filled 
with  gold,  and  the  chest  was  empty.  Into  this  was  then 
replaced  the  silver  plate,  and  upon  it  the  discarded  ore. 
The  lid  was  closed  again,  the  excavation  filled  up,  all  signs 
of  disturbance  as  much  as  possible  effaced,  and  three  weary 
but  intensely  well-satisfied  persons  turned  away  from  the 
old  sun-dial  as  the  faintly  flushing  east  showed  that  the 
sun  himself  was  about  to  rise  on  a  new  day. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  THERE  is  one  thing  I  must  do  before  we  leave  here," 
said  Atherton  ;  "  and  that  is,  take  some  views  of  the 
place." 

It  was  several  hours  since  they  had  turned  away  in  the 
flushing  dawn  from  the  sun-dial.  They  had  slept — De 
Marsillac  heavily  after  the  vigil  and  excitement  of  the 
night — had  breakfasted,  and  were  now  taking  their  ease  on 
the  terrace,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  great  mimosa,  which 
spread  its  branches  over  them  like  a  green  umbrella. 
Atherton  had  decided  to  delay  their  return  to  the  Cape 
until  the  afternoon,  so  as  to  avoid  notice  as  much  as  possi- 
ble by  passing  through  the  city  after  dark  ;  and  they  had 
therefore  some  hours  still  before  them  to  while  away  as 
best  they  could. 

Neither  found  this  difficult ;  for  both  had  endured  so 


THE    MAX    OF   THE    FAMILY.  225 

much  fatigue  and  been  so  constantly  on  a  strain  for  two 
days  that  rest  was  a  thing  to  be  welcomed  and  enjoyed, 
even  if  it  had  not  been  sweetened  by  the  consciousness  of 
success  in  their  undertaking.  The  last  fact,  however,  was 
so  agreeable  that  they  had  been  discussing  it  at  length,  and 
bringing  its  reality  fully  before  them  by  contemplating  the 
jewels,  which  lost  none  of  their  beauty  when  seen  by  day  ; 
until  Atherton  made  a  sudden  diversion  by  the  speech  re- 
corded above. 

"  I  had  forgotten  that  you  brought  a  camera,"  said  his 
companion.  "  You  have  not  used  it." 

"  The  opportunities  for  doing  so  have  not  been  very 
great,  if  you  remember.  The  camera  was  not  always  at 
hand  when  it  would  have  been  of  use.  I  should  have  liked 
exceedingly  to  take  a  view  of  that  Vaudoux  meeting,  if 
such  a  thing  had  been  possible " 

"  Don't  !"  said  the  other,  lifting  his  hand  quickly. 
"  Don't  recall  that  awful  scene  !  I  am  trying — oh,  so 
hard  ! — to  forget  it." 

"  You  will  not  succeed.  Neither  of  us  will  ever  forget 
it.  I  am  sure  that  years  hence  a  word  or  an  allusion  will 
recall  it  so  vividly  that  we  shall  feel  the  same  thrill  of  hor- 
ror which  we  feel  to-day." 

"  Is  it  decided  that  we  say  nothing  about  it — that  we  do 
not  report  it  at  all  ?" 

"  I  shall  inform  Mr.  Hoffman  and  abide  by  his  decision. 
He  knows  the  people,  and  can  tell  whether  or  not  it  is 
worth  while  to  make  any  report.  From  what  I  have  heard, 
I  do  not  believe  that  the  testimony  of  a  white  man  would 
have  any  weight.  If  it  possesses  any,  I  would  willingly 
submit  to  the  inconvenience  of  acting  as  a  witness  to  pun- 
ish those  murderers.  But  you — would  you  be  willing  to 
be  detained  here  indefinitely  for  the  purpose  ?" 


226  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

The  boy  looked  at  him  with  startled  eyes  ;  evidently  this 
thought  had  not  occurred  to  him. 

"  No,"  he  answered  after  an  instant :  "  I  should  not  be 
willing.  Now  that  my  work  is  done,  my  object  attained,  I 
can  allow  nothing  to  delay  my  return.  I  must  leave  by 
the  first  ship." 

"  Then  nothing  must  be  said  of  the  matter  until  after 
you  are  gone.  We  don't  want  to  attract  attention  to  our 
movements  and  doings  until  that  money  is  safely  out  of 
the  country." 

"  Do  you  anticipate  any  difficulty  in  getting  it  out 
safely  ?" 

"  Not  if  my  plan  is  successful — as  I  think  it  will  be. 
And  here  comes  in  the  great  benefit  of  having  found  a 
genuine  vein  of  gold.  I  shall  make  a  present  of  my  dis- 
covery to  Mr.  Hoffman,  and  he  will  probably  know  some 
Haytian  to  whom  he  can  impart  the  secret  on  his  own 
terms.  If  the  Haytian  (in  whose  name  alone  anything  can 
be  done)  and  himself  decide  to  open  the  mine,  they  will 
want  an  assay  of  the  ore.  To  obtain  this  they  must  send 
specimens  to  New  York,  and  I  shall  advise  that  a  sufficient 
quantity  be  sent  to  make  what  is  called  '  a  working  test.' 
You,  fortunately,  are  going,  and  will  take  charge  of  the 
sacks  to  oblige  me.  What  follows?  The  sacks,  without 
difficulty  or  remark,  are  conveyed  on  shipboard  as  contain- 
ing ore.  They  do  contain  enough  for  the  purpose  desired, 
and  therefore  neither  you  nor  I  am  guilty  of  falsehood." 

"  You  think  of  everything,"  said  the  boy  gratefully. 
"  What  should  I  have  done  without  you  !  But  will  you 
derive  no  benefit  whatever  from  your  discovery  of  the  gold  ?" 

"  I  shall  derive  the  benefit  I  desire — that  of  enabling 
you  to  take  your  coin  safely  out  of  the  country.  For  the 
rest,  I  am  quite  willing  that  Mr.  Hoffman  shall  make  all 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  227 

that  he  can  out  of  it,  in  return  for  the  services  he  has  ren- 
dered us." 

"And  what"  (with  sudden  energy)  "is  to  be  your  re- 
turn for  the  inestimable  services  you  have  rendered  me  ?" 

"  My  return,"  said  Atherton  lightly,  "  is  in  the  pleasure 
it  has  given  me.  What  did  I  tell  you  when  we  first  talked 
of  this  matter  on  Turk's  Island  ?  Did  I  not  say  that  I  was 
an  idle  man,  to  whom  such  an  interest  was  a  welcome 
boon  ?  In  fact,  if  you  come  to  the  question  of  indebted- 
ness, it  is  I  who  am  indebted  to  you  for  one  of  the  most 
exciting  adventures  of  my  life.  It  is  not  every  day  one  has 
a  chance  to  seek  for  treasure — and,  better  yet,  to  find  it." 

"  What  can  I  say  to  you  !"  answered  the  other,  looking 
at  him  with  eyes  that  had  seemed  to  him  from  the  first 
time  he  met  them  the  most  beautiful  he  had  ever  seen. 
"  You  speak  in  this  way  to  lessen  my  sense  of  obligation  ; 
but  you  know  that  I  owe  you  everything.  You  have  given 
me  your  time,  your  thought,  your  interest ;  am  I  to  give 
you  nothing  ?" 

"  What  can  you  give  me,  dear  boy,"  replied  Atherton, 
touched  by  the  intense  feeling  of  the  words,  "  except  your 
friendship — let  us  be  sentimental  enough  to  say,  your  affec- 
tion ?  That  I  shall  be  glad  to  have." 

"It  is  yours,  and  will  be  yours  as  long  as  my  heart 
beats,"  said  De  Marsillac  earnestly.  "  Promise  me  that 
you  will  believe  it." 

"  Why  should  I  not  believe  it  ?  One  is  generally  willing 
enough  to  believe  what  one  desires.  I  hope  you  will  put 
out  of  your  mind  any  idea  that  you  owe  me  gratitude  for 
the  aid  I  have  given  you.  I  tell  you  again,  in  that  matter 
I  pleased  myself.  I  might  not  have  entered  on  the  adven- 
ture if  I  had  not  liked  you  ;  but  it  would  have  tempted 
me,  I  think,  had  I  liked  you  less  than  I  did.  Put  all 


228  THE   MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

thoughts  of  indebtedness  aside,  therefore  ;  and  like  me,  if 
you  like  me  at  all,  for  such  qualities  as  I  have  shown 
you,  and  such  sympathy  as  I  truly  believe  exists  between 
us." 

"  I  could  not  fail  to  like  as  well  as  to  admire  you  for 
those  things.  I  could  not  fail  to  feel  how  sympathetic, 
how  unselfish,  how  altogether  kind  you  have  been,"  an- 
swered the  boy,  with  the  same  deep  earnestness  he  had 
already  displayed.  "  Rut  why  forbid  me  to  be  grateful  ? — 
because,  whether  you  forbid  it  or  not,  I  must  be  so." 

"  If  you  must"  (shrugging  his  shoulders),  "  why,  then, 
you  must,  and  there  is  no  more  to  be  said.  But  1  do  not 
like  it,  because  it  seems  to  me  in  some  degree  a  sordid  sen- 
timent, based  as  it  is  on  a  sense  of  benefits  received.  Now, 
I  do  not  wish  you  to  feel  that  you  have  received  any  bene- 
fits from  me,  but  only  such  aid  as  friends  may  freely  give 
and  take." 

' '  But,  unfortunately,  my  part  seems  to  be  to  take  all 
and  give  nothing.  What  can  7  do  for  you  ?" 

"  I  thought  I  had  made  that  clear.  If  you  insist,  how- 
ever, on  balancing  obligation  with  obligation — which  is  to 
me  a  most  objectionable  spirit — why,  I  have  already  told 
you  what  you  may  do  :  you  may  introduce  me  to  your  sis- 
ter, Mademoiselle  Diane." 

Dead  silence  for  a  moment — a  moment  filled  with  such 
embarrassment  on  the  part  of  one,  such  absolute  lack  of 
any  possible  response,  that  it  was  amazing  the  other  did 
not  observe  it.  In  that  instant  De  Marsillac  anathematized 
his  own  garrulous  folly,  which  by  want  of  reticence  had 
brought  this  upon  him,  with  a  vehemence  which,  in  the 
way  of  self-reproach,  left  nothing  to  be  desired,  but  which 
was  quite  unavailing  to  provide  a  remedy.  What  could  he 
say  ?  What  frightful  failure  in  the  gratitude  he  had  just 


THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  229 

expressed  in  even  hesitating  over  his  answer  to  such  a  re- 
quest !  At  length  he  stammered  lamely,  awkwardly  : 

"  You  are  jesting  when  you  talk  of  balancing  my  obliga- 
tions to  you  by  such  a  request  as  that.  After  I  have  told 
Diane  what  you  have  done,  you  will  need  no  introduction, 
should  you  ever  meet  her,  but  your  name— that  name 
which  we  will  all  '  set  in  our  prayers/  ' 

How  sweetly — as  if  to  make  amends  for  something  lack- 
ing— the  musical  voice  uttered  those  last  words  !  Ather- 
ton  could  not  but  look  at  the  speaker  with  a  smile. 

"  That  is  a  form  of  gratitude  to  which  I  cannot  object," 
he  said.  "  As  for  your  sister,  let  me  tell  you  that  I 
shall  not  leave  the  matter  of  our  meeting  to  chance.  I  in- 
tend to  meet  her.  I  have  an  idea,  based  on  what  I  have 
seen  of  you,  that  she  is  wholly  unlike  the  fin  de  sibcle 
women  whom  one  knows  so  well,  and  from  whom  I  confess 
that  I  turn  with  a  deep  distaste.  How  often  I  have  wished 
that  I  could  summon  back  from  the  past  some  type  that 
charmed  my  fancy  !  Now,  I  think  that  your  sister  must 
be  the  survival  of  such  a  type  ;  only  I  wish  that  she  were 
named  Yvonne  instead  of  Diane." 

"  Why  ?" — in  a  very  startled  tone. 

"  Because  that  quaint,  Old-World  name  nas  captivated 
my  imagination.  I  fancy  the  chatelaine  whom  it  suggests 
as  one  of  those  heroic  figures  of  women  who  now  and  then 
through  the  ages  have  done  things  so  nobly  brave  that  they 
shame  the  achievements  of  men.  Gentle  as  a  s  int,  proud 
as  a  queen,  faithful  to  every  trust,  and  capable  of  fighting 
like  the  Countess  Matilda,  or  holding  a  fortress  like  many 
another  gallant  woman  of  the  past — is  that  the  type  of  your 
sister?" 

"  No"  (reluctantly),  "  that  is  not  Diane.  There  is  noth- 
ing warlike  in  her.  And,  after  all"  (hesitatingly),  "do 


230  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

you  think  you  would  really  fancy  a  woman  who  possessed 
the  masculine  qualities  of  which  you  speak  ?  I  thought 
men  liked  women  to  be  as  feminine  as  possible." 

"  Bravery  is  not  unfeminine.  It  is  a  quality  as  admir- 
able in  a  woman  as  in  a  man  ;  and  in  the  type  of  which  I 
speak  the  woman  lost  no  feminine  grace  by  being  brave. 
How  is  it  with  yourself  ?  Would  you  not  like  a  woman 
who  had  in  her,  under  the  softness  of  her  sex,  the  spark  of 
fire  which  might  kindle  into  some  heroic  deed?" 

"I — don't  know."  The  brown  eyes  looked  away  from 
him  over  the  plain  towards  the  mountains,  lovely  in  their 
blue-robed  distance  as  ideals,  hard  and  rugged  in  their  real- 
ity as  facts.  ' '  A  great  deal  of  daring  which  the  world 
would  disapprove  is  sometimes  necessary  for  a  deed  that 
might  perhaps  be  called,  by  a  stretch  of  terms,  heroic." 

"  The  world  disapproved  of  the  Maid  of  Domremy,"  said 
Atherton.  "  One  may  imagine  that  her  neighbors  and 
friends  thought  it  very  objectionable  when  she  donned 
armor  and  went  forth  to  fight.  You  know  we  measure  the 
value  of  such  a  deed — the  right  which  the  doer  has  to  set 
the  opinion  of  the  world  aside — by  the  object  in  view  and 
by  the  end  attained." 

The  brown  eyes,  turning  back  again,  looked  at  him 
gratefully. 

"  I  think  you  are  right,"  was  the  somewhat  wistful  re- 
ply. "  If  the  object  in  view  was  very  important,  one 
might  pardon  a  woman  for  setting  aside  the  opinion  of  the 
world  ;  one  might  think  she  was  right  in  considering  the 
essentials  rather  than  the  appearances  of  conduct.  But" 
(hastily)  "  we  have  wandered  far  from  the  subject  of  which 
we  were  speaking — the  subject  of  my  deep  indebtedness  to 
you.  Will  you  add  another  favor  to  all  that  you  have  al- 
ready bestowed  upon  rne,  and  select  a  souvenir — a  remem- 


THE   MAN   OF  THE  FAMILY.  231 

brance  of  our  adventure — from  among  these  jewels  which 
but  for  you  would  never  have  been  recovered  ?" 

He  made  a  gesture  of  his  hand  towards  the  trinkets 
which  lay  "before  them  in  a  glittering  heap  ;  and  Atherton 
could  not  but  feel  that  his  manner  in  preferring  the  re- 
quest was  the  manner  of  one  who  does  in  truth,  earnestly 
yet  gracefully,  beg  a  favor.  The  soft  eyes  looked  at  him 
so  appealingly  that  refusal  seemed  impossible,  unless  he 
were  prepared  to  wound  deeply  one  whom  he  had  so  deeply 
obliged. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  he  said  lightly,  "  this  is  unnecessary  ; 
for  I  can  never  possibly  forget  our  adventure.  But  if 
my  complying  with  your  request  will  give  you  pleas- 
ure  " 

"  It  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure,"  interposed  the 
other  eagerly.  "  Nothing  could  give  me  more.  It  will 
be  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  in  the  future  to  think  that 
you  have  in  your  possession  something  which  will  make 
you  recall  Henri  de  Marsillac  and  his  gratitude  whenever 
you  look  at  it." 

"  You  speak  as  if  Henri  de  Marsillac  himself  was  not  to 
play  any  further  part  in  my  life,"  said  Atherton.  "  On 
the  contrary,  I  am  determined  that  we  shall  see  a  great 
deal  of  each  other  in  the  future." 

"But  life  is  uncertain"  (confusedly).  "And,  in  any 
event,  you  must  take  the  souvenir.  I  could  not  endure  to 
look  at  these  jewels  if  you  refused  to  have  any  of  them. 
Now,  what  will  you  choose  ?" 

"  Not  the  diamond  necklace,"  said  Atherton,  laughing. 
"  Your  hand  seems  to  be  moving  in  that  direction,  I  per- 
ceive. Nor  anything  else  of  great  value  ;  for,  apart  from 
the  fact  that  these  are  family  jewels,  what  should  I  do  with 
bracelets  or  necklaces?  If  I  followed  my  inclination  I 


232  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

should  Bay,  give  me  the  miniature  of  your  beautiful  ances- 
tress  " 

"  Of  course  it  is  yours  !"  cried  the  boy  with  reckless 
generosity,  putting  out  his  hand  to  take  up  the  pearl-set 
medallion. 

But  Atherton  laid  his  own  upon  it  with  a  restraining 
gesture. 

"  Stop,  stop  !  Did  you  fancy  me  in  earnest?"  he  said. 
"  That  miniature  should  be  in  the  future,  as  it  evidently 
has  been  in  the  past,  a  family  treasure,  not  under  any  cir- 
cumstances to  be  given  to  a  stranger." 

"  You  are  not  a  stranger.  You  are  the  person  but  for 
whom  it  would  still  be  buried  in  the  earth,  to  be  found,  if 
ever  found  at  all,  by  some  ignorant  negro " 

' '  No  matter  ;  I  have  no  claim  to  possess  the  picture  of 
Madame  Raoul  de  Marsillac,  and  I  was  only  jesting  when  I 
alluded  to  such  a  possibility.  I  was  going  to  add,  since 
that  cannot  be,  you  may  give  me  a  ring,  if  you  can  find  an 
unobtrusive  one." 

"  There  are  not  very  many  rings,"  said  the  boy.  "But, 
such  as  there  are,  will  you  select  one  ?" 

Atherton  turned  them  over,  and  finally  selected  one 
which  he  slipped  upon  his  finger.  It  held  a  single  ruby, 
not  very  large  but  of  rare  beauty,  with  the  true  pigeon's- 
blood  tint  and  of  exceeding  brilliance. 

"  I  would  not  willingly  deprive  you  of  anything  so  lovely 
as  this,"  he  said  ;  "  but  if  you  insist  on  my  taking  some- 
thing  " 

"  I  do  insist,"  answered  the  other  ;  "but  I  am  disap- 
pointed in  your  choice.  I  wish  you  would  choose  some- 
thing of  more  value." 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  value,  but  only  of  remem- 
brance," returned  Atherton.  "  This  is  a  particularly  fine 


THE  MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  233 

ruby,  however,  let  me  tell  you  ;  and  the  ruby  has  always 
been  rny  favorite  gem.  I  like  the  rich  color  of  its  deep 
heart— symbol  and  emblem  of  passion.  I  shall  keep  this 
in  memory  of  our  association  and  our  friendship.  Are  you 
satisfied  now?" 

"  Partially— if  I  must  be.  And  now  you  must  not  for- 
bid me  to  reward  Gilbert  for  his  services." 

"  But  I  do  forbid  it.  To  reward  Gilbert's  services  is  my 
affair." 

"  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Atherton— no  !  Your  reward  to  him  will 
not  be  mine.  Don't  prevent  me.  I  would  not  willingly 
do  anything  against  your  wishes  ;  but  I  must  give  him  at 
least  five  hundred  dollars,  or  its  equivalent,  of  the  gold  he 
helped  to  find." 

"  Obstinate  boy,  1  much  prefer  that  you  should  not.  I 
will  reward  him  fully,  amply  ;  he  knows  that." 

"  Again,  let  me  say,  your  reward  is  not  mine.  Help 
me,  then,  to  decide  how  much  of  this  French  money  is 
equivalent  to  the  sum  I  mentioned." 

"  If  you  persist — and  I  see  that  you  do — I  suppose  I 
must  let  you  have  your  way  in  this  also.  We  will  attend 
to  the  matter  presently.  But  now  I  want  to  take  those 
views  of  which  I  spoke  some  time  back.  I  am  sure  you 
will  like  to  have  one  or  two  pictures  of  the  place  where  your 
people  lived  and  where  you  have  found  a  fortune.  Let  me 
see  !  I  will  take  the  house,  the  avenue,  and  the  circle  of 
the  sun-dial,  of  course.  Gilbert,  bring  my  camera.  Come, 
Henri  ;  I  shall  put  you  in  the  last  picture." 

"  No,  no  !"  (with  evident  consternation.)  "  That  is  not 
to  be  thought  of.  I — I  mean  the  picture  will  be  much 
better  without  me.  Figures  posing  in  photographs  of 
famous  scenes,  or  scenes  of  any  kind,  always  strike  me  as 
impertinences.  One  wants  to  brush  them  away." 


234  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  I  shall  not  want  to  brush  your  figure  from  that  scene, 
where  I  consider  that  it  will  be  most  appropriate.  And  I 
am  certain  that  your  family  will  agree  with  me  ;  and  will 
value  the  picture  more  if  you  are  seen  in  it,  standing  on 
the  spot  where  you  found  the  treasure  for  them." 

"  It  would  be  much  more  appropriate  if  you  were  stand- 
ing on  it,"  said  the  boy.  "  At  all  events,  I  cannot  possibly 
consent  to  be  taken." 

"  But  this  is  nonsense.     Why  not  ?" 

"  Because  I — I  have  an  abhorrence  of  being  photo- 
graphed. And  I  think  the  picture  should  be  of  the  circle 
and  the  sun-dial  in  their  loneliness,  not  of  me." 

"  I  totally  disagree  with  you.  But  it  is  easy  to  take  two 
photographs  :  one  of  the  empty  circle,  and  one  with  you 
leaning  against  she  sun-dial.  I  insist  on  this  for  myself  ; 
and  you  are  not  going  to  refuse  to  gratify  me  in  a  matter 
so  trivial." 

No,  he  could  not  refuse,  in  a  matter  apparently  so  trivial, 
to  gratify  one  to  whom  he  stood  so  deeply  indebted.  The 
risk  was,  after  all,  slight ;  faces  in  these  photographs  of 
outdoor,  as  he  remembered  with  relief,  being  generally 
quite  indistinguishable.  And  so,  with  deep  inward  reluc- 
tance but  an  outward  show  of  yielding  gracefully,  he  said  : 

"  Of  course  if  you  put  it  in  that  way  I  cannot  refuse. 
But  I  still  think  the  scene  would  be  better  without  me." 

"  What  significance  would  the  scene  have  to  me  unless 
your  figure  were  in  it?"  Atherton  asked.  "  No  ;  Henri  de 
Marsillac  the  second  must  be  standing  where  Henri  de 
Marsillac  the  first  buried  his  fortune.  Come  !" 

Night  had  fallen  when  the  travellers,  having  timed  their 
arrival  carefully,  passed  through  the  Cape  without  chal- 
lenge of  any  kind,  and  rode  up  to  Mr.  Hoffman's  door. 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  235 

That  gentleman  greeted  them  warmly,  and  would  have  hur- 
ried them  at  once  into  the  house,  but  Atherton  paused  and 
pointed  to  a  large  steamer  which  lay  at  anchor  in  the  star- 
lit bay. 

"  What  ship  is  that  ?"  he  asked. 

"  That  is  the  Clyde  steamer,  from  the  other  side  of  the 
island,  on  her  return  voyage,"  was  the  reply.  "  She  sails 
for  New  York  to-morrow." 


LETTER  FROM  HENRI  DE  MARSILLAC  TO  HERBERT 
ATHERTON. 

NEW  YOBK,  December  31,  1894. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  ATHERTON  :  I  have  complied  with  all 
your  directions  concerning  the  ore  :  have  placed  it  without 
delay  in  the  hands  of  the  assayer  you  designated,  who  will 
send  direct  to  you  a  statement  of  the  result. 

Thanks  to  your  kindness,  which  anticipated  everything, 
I  had  no  trouble  in  landing.  As  we  were  both  anxious 
that  no  news  of  what  was  found  in  Hayti  should  return 
there,  I  told  no  one  what  the  sacks  really  contained  ;  and 
they  passed  through  the  custom-house  without  examina- 
tion, as  ore.  My  heart  was  in  my  throat  during  this  or- 
deal, you  may  be  sure  ;  for  I  knew  that  if  the  gold  were 
discovered  I  should  have  some  difficulty  in  accounting  for 
its  presence  ;  and  that  other  things  might  have  to  be  ac- 
counted for,  too.  But  the  risk  seemed  to  me  better  than 
the  certain  attention  that  would  be  excited  by  a  story  so 
sensational.  I  felt  that  I  could  risk  almost  anything  rather 
than  that — for  which  I  had  more  reasons  than  I  can  tell 
you. 

For  now  comes  the  hardest  part  of  what  I  have  to  write. 
And,  being  so  hard,  I  will  make  it  brief.  It  is  that  I  must 


230  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

now  go  out  of  your  life  entirely  ;  that  you  will  never  after 
this  hear  of  me  again  ;  and  that  I  beg  you  to  add  one  more 
kindness  to  the  great  kindnesses  you  have  already  done  me, 
by  putting  me  out  of  your  memory  altogether  and  making 
no  inquiry  about  me. 

And,  indeed,  why  should  you  not  put  out  of  your  mem- 
ory one  who  will  seem  to  you  so  ungrateful  ?  I  can  ex- 
plain nothing  ;  I  cannot  even  ask  for  your  kind  remem- 
brance of  what  I  was  in  the  time  we  were  together.  I  only 
assure  you — and  you  will  not  believe  this,  nor  can  I  blame 
you  for  disbelieving  it — that  as  long  as  life  lasts  I  shall 
hold  your  memory  in  my  heart ;  and  that  I  shall  pray  un- 
ceasingly that  you  may  be  rewarded  in  fullest  measure  for 
all  yon  have  done  to  help  one  who  needed  your  help  most 
sorely,  and  thanks  you  for  it  now  more  than  any  poor 
words  can  say. 

And  so  God  bless  you,  and  farewell  ! 

HENRI. 


PART  III. 

CHAPTER  I. 

"  AH,  Varigny  !  You  are  the  very  man  I  am  looking 
for." 

So  said  one  young  man  to  another,  by  whose  side  he 
dropped  into  a  chair  in  the  window  of  a  New  Orleans  club- 
house. The  person  addressed  glanced  up  with  some  surprise. 

"  Looking  for  me,  Langdon  ?"  he  said.  "  What  do  you 
want?" 

"Nothing  very  much,"  the  other  replied.  "I  only 
want  to  introduce  to  you  a  man  who  seems  consumed  with 
curiosity  about  the  old  French  families,  old  French  cus- 
toms, and  old  French  history  of  New  Orleans.  Now,  I'm 
not  at  all  informed  on  these  subjects  ;  but  you  must  be, 
since  you  belong  to  a  representative  French  family.  He'll 
bore  you,  no  doubt  ;  but  you've  no  objection  to  knowing 
him,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  If  he  is  a  friend  of  yours,  certainly  not,"  said  Varigny. 

"  He's  a  little  more  than  a  friend  :  he's  a  distant  rela- 
tive, whom  I  wish  was  a  good  deal  nearer.  Some  thirty 
or  forty  years  ago  a  cousin  of  my  father  went  to  California," 
and  his  daughter  married  Atherton  the  millionaire.  I  be- 
lieve he  wasn't  a  millionaire  when  she  married  him,  but  he 
became  one  afterwards  ;  and  this  is  her  son." 

"It  is  not  to  his  discredit  that  his  father  is  a  million- 
aire," remarked  Varigny  temperately.  "  What  is  he  like 
himself?" 


238  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  A  good  deal  like  an  Englishman — the  genuine  article, 
not  the  American  imitation,  you  understand.  He  doesn't 
make  a  point  of  talking  London  slang  ;  and  doesn't  even 
let  you  know,  unless  it  comes  up  naturally,  that  he  is  an 
Oxford  man.  He's  quiet,  well-bred,  and  without  an  ounce 
of  pretension  on  the  score  of  his  millions." 

"  Why  should  a  man  have  pretensions  on  the  score  of 
possessing  millions  which  somebody  else  accumulated  ?" 
asked  the  young  Creole,  with  a  quiet  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

' '  Why,  indeed  ?  But  one  knows,  all  the  same,  that  the 
pretensions  of  such  men  are  often  unbearably  offensive — at 
least  to  that  large  proportion  of  the  world  which  does  not 
possess  millions.  But  Atherton,  you  see,  has  good  blood 
on  his  mother's  side,  and  therefore  knows  better." 

"  That"  (with  gravity)  "is  no  doubt  to  be  considered. 
And  is  he  here  for  any  special  purpose  ?" 

"  !No  :  merely  as  an  idler.  It  seems  that  he  is  threat- 
ened with  consumption,  and  the  doctors  ordered  him  to  the 
West  Indies.  He  found  life  dull  there,  and  has  come  over 
from  Cuba  here.  For  lack  of  other  interest,  I  presume, 
he  is,  as  I  have  said,  immensely  interested  in  the  Creole 
families  ;  so  I  am  sure  he  will  like  to  meet  you." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  meet  him.  Where  is  he  to  be 
found  ?" 

4 '  In  the  smoking-room  at  present — at  least  I  left  him 
there  when  I  started  in  search  of  you,  somebody  having 
mentioned  that  you  had  come  in.  If  you  like,  we'll  look 
him  up." 

Varigny,  assenting,  rose — a  slender  man  with  a  quiet 
manner  and  somewhat  languid  grace  of  movement,  which 
did  not  conceal  the  latent  nerve  and  fire  that  would  be 
quick  to  answer  to  any  demand  made  upon  them.  His  face 
was  strikingly  handsome,  with  clear,  olive  tints,  finely  cut 


THE  MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  239 

features,  and  brilliant  dark  eyes  ;  while  his  lithe,  graceful 
figure,  tapering  to  delicately  small  extremities,  betrayed 
only  to  a  practised  eye  the  muscles  of  steel  it  possessed. 

Langdon  belonged  in  all  respects  to  a  different  type.  AB 
commonplace  as  the  other  was  picturesque  in  appearance, 
he  was  large-limbed,  loosely  built,  and  inclining  to  stout- 
ness. But  his  good-humored  face  was  not  without  attrac- 
tion ;  and  his  aspect  was  that  of  one  sure  of  himself  and 
his  surroundings,  with  a  comfortable  conviction  that  he 
had  little  to  desire  in  life  which  was  not  within  his  reach. 

They  speedily  found  the  man,  described  as  manifesting 
a  consuming  curiosity  about  old  Creole  families,  where  he 
had  been  left — sunk  in  the  depths  of  an  easy- chair,  smok- 
ing, and  listening  with  perfunctory  attention  to  two 
club  gossips  talking  such  social  scandal  as  flourishes  for 
the  benefit  and  by  the  aid  of  persons  like  themselves. 
"  I  know  for  a  fact  that  the  matter  will  end  in  a  separa- 
tion," one  of  them  was  saying  as  Langdon  and  Varigny 
came  up. 

"  Are  you  fellows  on  that  topic  still  ?"  remarked  the 
former.  "  '  At  every  breath  a  reputation  dies,'  might  be 
truly  said  of  you  !  Atherton,  here  is  a  man  who  has  the 
history  of  every  French  family  in  Louisiana  at  his  fingers' 
ends,  for  the  best  of  all  reasons — that  he  is  connected  with 
every  one  of  them — and  who  is  himself  a  sample  of  their 
best.  Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Varigny." 

"  Our  friend  Langdon  gives  me  credit  for  more  claims 
on  your  consideration  than  I  really  possess,"  said  Varigny, 
as  Atherton  and  himself  shook  hands.  "  1  am  by  no 
means  connected  with  every  French  family  in  Louisiana  ; 
nor  am  I ' ' 

"  Don't  say  you  are  not  a  sample  of  their  best,"  inter- 
posed Langdon.  "  For  you  must  know  that  you  are  ;  or 


240  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

if  you  don't,  the  rest  of  us  know  it  so  well  as  to  make  your 
knowledge  non-essential." 

"  We'll  waive  that  point  if  you  insist  upon  it,"  Varigny 
responded,  smiling.  "  I  was  about  to  say  that  I  am  not 
possessed  of  the  exhaustive  knowledge  regarding  them  with 
which  you  credit  me.  But,  for  all  that,  I  can  possibly 
either  answer  myself  or  find  some  one  who  can  answer  any 
reasonable  question  Mr.  Atherton  may  desire  to  ask  about 
any  particular  French  family.  Or  is  your  interest  merely 
general  in  its  nature?"  he  added,  addressing  that  gen- 
tleman. 

"  It  is  both  general  and  particular,"  answered  Atherton, 
thinking,  as  he  looked  at  the  speaker,  that  between  him 
and  a  certain  boyish  face  which  dwelt  in  his  memory  there 
was  a  striking  resemblance  of  type,  which  in  no  respect 
amounted  to  personal  likeness,  but  distinctly  marked  them 
as  belonging  to  the  same  race.  And  perhaps  he  saw  this 
the  more  clearly  because  his  perceptions  were  quickened  in 
all  that  related  to  that  face  by  deep  and  stern  resentment 
towards  it— towards  the  frank  lips  that  had  deceived,  and 
the  beautiful  eyes  that  had  cheated  him  out  of  the  interest 
and  affection  he  had  all  his  life  so  sparingly  bestowed. 

"  Your  history  is  so  rich  in  romantic  interest,"  he  went 
on,  as  Varigny,  having  sat  down,  regarded  him  expectant- 
ly, "  that  one  would  need  to  be  devoid  of  all  imagination 
who  did  not  find  it  fascinating.  But  it  is  likely  that  you 
are  tired  of  hearing  this  ;  and  tired,  too,  of  imparting  in- 
formation about  its  details  to  curious  strangers." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  other  courteously  ;  "  provid- 
ed that  strangers  do  not  talk  to  us  of  the  extremely  imagi- 
native creations  of  certain  novelists,  and  expect  us  to  recog- 
nize them  as  types  of  Creole  character  and  life.  Of  what 
has  real  existence,  either  in  history  or  in  the  present,  we 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  241 

are  quite  ready  to  speak  ;  being  ourselves  perhaps  a  little 
proud  of  our  past,  and  much  attached  to  its  tradi- 
tions/' 

"  Who  would  not  be  proud  of  such  a  past  !"  said  Ather- 
ton.  "  It  is  not  the  fault  of  those  from  whom  you  are  de- 
scended that  this  whole  continent  is  not  French  instead  of 
English  to-day  ;  for  the  world  has  never  known  a  more  gal- 
lant, adventurous  and  hardy  race  than  the  early  French 
settlers  of  America.  Marquette,  La  Salle,  Frontenac,  De 
Bienville — the  mere  sound  of  their  names  recalls  achieve- 
ments of  daring,  marvels  of  iron  endurance,  such  as  no 
other  race  can  show  on  the  soil  of  the  New  World." 

The  young  Creole  smiled,  and  his  dark  eyes  had  a  light 
of  pleasure  in  their  brilliant  depths. 

"  Je  vous  remercie,  monsieur,"  he  said  ;  and  added,  in 
the  same  language  :  "  We  think  so,  who  have  sprung  from 
the  race  of  which  you  speak  ;  but  it  does  not  naturally  be- 
come us  to  dwell  very  much  upon  these  things.  There  is 
one  who  would  like  to  talk  to  you  of  them,  however  ;  and 
that  is  my  father.  He  is  of  the  old  order  ;  he  has  no  taste, 
no  love  for  the  new.  His  mind  is  stored  with  memories, 
traditions,  stories  of  the  past ;  and  it  is  possible  that  you 
would  be  interested  in  meeting  him." 

"  It  is  not  only  possible  but  certain/'  Atherton  replied. 
"  I  should  be  extremely  interested  in  meeting  him." 

"  Then  you  must  come  over  into  our  old  French  city  ; 
for  my  father  seldom  goes  beyond  its  boundaries,  now  that 
he  has  grown  old.  He  never  liked  the  new  American  city, 
but  now  he  tries  to  forget  its  existence.  It  is  still  not  very 
difficult  to  achieve  that  in  the  '  Vieux  Carr'e. ' ' 

' '  Which  comprises  within  its  limits  all  that  is  worth  see- 
ing or  remembering  in  New  Orleans,"  said  Atherton.  "  I 
assure  you  that  it  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to 


242  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

make  a  pilgrimage  to  any  part  of  it  in  order  to  form  the 
acquaintance  of  your  father." 

"  It  is  settled,  then.  Are  you  engaged  for  this  even- 
ing?" 

"  I  have  no  engagement  which  I  cannot  put  aside." 

' '  In  that  case  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  calling  for  you 
at — shall  we  say  eight  o'clock  ?  You  are  to  be  found " 

"  At  the  Hotel  Royal,  quite  in  the  heart  of  your  old  city. 
For  the  matter  of  that,  how  could  one  possibly  think  of 
being  found  anywhere  else  !" 

"  You  do  us  and  our  old  city  too  much  honor.  May  I 
ask  if  your  interest  in  these  things  has  been  awakened  since 
your  arrival  here  ?" 

"  My  interest  in  New  Orleans,  yes.  In  old  French 
families — or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  in  one  old  French 
family — no.  And  this"  (glancing  around  to  satisfy  him- 
self that  the  gossips  had  withdrawn)  "  suggests  a  question 
which  I  have  been  anxious  to  ask  of  some  one  able  to  an- 
swer it  authoritatively,  as  you  no  doubt  can.  Is  it  true,  as 
I  have  been  informed,  that  the  family  called  De  Marsillac 
is  extinct?" 

The  young  Creole  looked  surprised. 

"  The  name  is  extinct,"  he  replied  ;  "for  all  the  men 
who  bore  it  were  killed  in  the  war.  But  the  family  still 
survives  in  the  persons  of  Madame  Prevost,  born  De  Mar- 
sillac, and  her  daughters." 

"She  has  no  son?" 

"None." 

"  There  is  positively  no  male  alive  who  has  a  right  to 
call  himself  De  Marsillac  ?" 

"  I  will  not  go  so  far  as  that,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
smile  ;  "  but  I  am  certain  there  is  none  in  Louisiana. 
Have  you  met  some  one  calling  himself  De  Marsillac  ?' ' 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  243 

"  Not  only  calling  himself  so,  but  taking  all  the  rights 
which  should  accompany  the  name." 

"  And  those  rights,"  asked  the  young  man  with  aston- 
ishment, "  were — what  ?" 

Atherton  hesitated  before  replying.  Deep  as  was  hia  in- 
dignation against  the  boy  who,  he  said  to  himself,  had  be- 
fooled and  deceived  him,  some  instinct — whether  of  past 
trust  or  past  affection — held  him  back  from  denouncing 
him  as  an  impostor  and  appropriator  of  that  to  which  he 
had  no  claim.  And  while  he  hesitated  Varigny  went  on  : 

"  I  ask  the  question  because  I  do  not  know  what  rights 
a  self-styled  De  Marsillac  could  claim.  All  that  remains 
of  the  family  wealth  is  a  plantation  on  Bayou  Teche,  which 
belongs  to  Madame  Prevost ;  on  which,  in  fact,  she  lives. 
And,  although  that  has  been  heavily  mortgaged,  she  has 
lately  been  able  to  pay  off  the  mortgage,  and  therefore  no 
one  could  possibly  claim  it." 

The  mortgage  !  How  clearly  at  that  word  there  rose  be- 
fore Atherton  the  picture  of  a  wide,  sleeping  bay  overhung 
by  a  tropical  heaven  ;  of  dim,  mysterious,  encircling  moun- 
tains ;  of  the  gleaming  lights  of  a  city  from  which  the  dark 
shadow  of  blood  might  never  pass  away  ;  of  heavy  tropical 
foliage  softly  rustling  in  the  breath  of  a  fragrant  land- 
breexe  ;  while  a  voice  full  of  music,  and,  he  would  have 
sworn,  of  truth,  told  him  of  a  threatened  home,  and  of  a 
mortgage  which  might  be  paid  only  by  sacrifice  or  by  dar- 
ing !  He  looked  quickly  at  Varigny. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  inquired,  "  where  the  money  which 
paid  that  mortgage  came  from  ?" 

He  did  not  think  until  after  the  words  had  left  his  lips 
how  singular  would  be  their  sound  in  the  ear  of  the  man  to 
whom  they  were  addressed.  In  fact,  the  latter  was  for  a 
moment  confounded.  Then,  recovering  himself,  but  with 


244:  THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

a  stiffness  of  manner  which  told  with  sufficient  clearness 
what  he  thought  of  such  an  inquiry,  he  answered  : 

"  That  is  surely  Madame  Prevost's  private  affair.  If  I 
did  know  I  should  not  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  say." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Atherton.  "The  question 
escaped  me  unawares.  Of  course  you  could  not  be  expect- 
ed to  answer  it.  I  asked  only  because — well,  because  I  am 
greatly  puzzled." 

"  About  the  payment  of  the  mortgage  on  Madame  Pre- 
vost's plantation  ?"  asked  the  other,  with  growing  aston- 
ishment. "  Do  you,  then,  know  any  of  the  family  ?" 

"  None/' 

"  And  yet " 

"  And  yet  I  am  curious  about  their  private  affairs,  you 
would  say.  But  it  is  not  that  I  am  interested,  in  so  far  as 
those  affairs  relate  to  them  ;  but — perhaps — to  the  De  Mar- 
sillac  who,  you  assure  me,  does  not  exist. ' ' 

"  You  talk  in  riddles,  Mr.  Atherton.  Do  I  understand 
that  this  De  Marsillac  claimed  to  belong  to  the  same  family 
as  the  Prevosts  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say  that,  because  the  name  of  Prevost  is  new 
to  me.  I  have  heard  it  for  the  first  time  since  my  arrival 
in  New  Orleans.  But  he  claimed  to  represent  the  De  Mar- 
sillac who  came  to  Louisiana  as  a  refugee  from  the  island 
of  Santo  Domingo." 

"It  is  the  same  family  ;  there  is  no  other  of  the  name 
in  Louisiana.  Therefore  the  man  who  told  you  he  repre- 
sented it  could  only  have  been  an  impostor." 

"  That  is  what  I  am  constrained  to  believe.  And  if  so, 
these  people  of  whom  you  speak— these  Prevosts — should 
be  put  in  possession  of  some  facts  relating  to  him." 

"  Facts  affecting  their  interest  ?" 

"  Very  much  affecting  their  interest." 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  245 

Varigny  was  silent  for  a  moment,  as  if  reflecting.  Then 
he  said  : 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  rouse  my  curiosity  exceed- 
ingly?" 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  gratify  it,"  Ather- 
ton  replied,  "except  for  the  fact  that  in  what  so  nearly 
concerns  them  I  should  perhaps  first  address  the  Pre- 
vosts.  Yet,  if  you  are  a  friend  of  theirs,  I  may,  by  placing 
the  matter  in  your  hands,  relieve  myself  of  any  responsi- 
bility  " 

"  No.  On  consideration,  I  should  much  prefer  that  you 
communicated  with  them  directly,  since  the  matter  seems 
to  you  important,"  said  the  young  Creole.  "  It  is  for  them 
to  take  me  into  their  confidence  if  they  care  to  do  so." 

"  But  where  shall  I  find  them  ?" 

"  Their  home  is  on  Bayou  Teche.     But  my  sister  is  ex- 

%/  •/ 

pecting  a  visit  from  one  of  the  daughters  of  Madame  Pre- 
vost  next  week.  You  may,  if  you  think  it  well,  communi- 
cate your  information  to  her." 

' '  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  afford  me  an  opportunity  to 
do  so.  It  may  be  too  late  for  any  practical  result ;  but, 
since  her  family  are  very  much  concerned  in  certain  acts  of 
the  person  calling  himself  De  Marsillac,  I  do  not  feel  justi- 
fied in  withholding  from  them  my  knowledge  of  what  has 
been  done." 

"  And  I,"  said  Varigny,  "  shall  have  pleasure  in  arrang- 
ing for  you  to  meet  Miss  Prevost  as  soon  as  possible  after 
her  arrival." 


246  THE   MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IT  was  with  a  more  serious  expression  of  countenance 
than  he  might  have  been  supposed  to  wear  as  a  result  of 
learning  that  some  one  without  right  to  do  so  had  been 
masquerading  as  a  De  Marsillac  of  Louisiana,  that  Varigny, 
having  parted  with  Atherton  at  the  club,  found  himself  a 
little  later  walking  homeward  along  Royal  Street. 

A  son  of  the  old  French  city,  his  feet  were  naturally  at 
home  on  the  banquette  of  this  its  most  famous  thorough- 
fare ;  and  the  preoccupied  expression  did  not  leave  his  face 
as  he  walked  past  the  flashy  saloons  and  concert  halls,  the 
cheap  restaurants  and  oyster  houses,  which,  as  signs  of  in- 
vading Americanism,  have  spoiled  the  street  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Canal  ;  nor  yet  when,  unmarred  by  such  inno- 
vations, it  stretched  before  him,  a  vista  of  wonderful 
picturesqueness,  with  the  lines  of  its  irregular  roofs,  gables, 
eaves  and  dormers  cutting  fantastically  against  the  sky, 
and  its  long  balconies  of  wrought  iron  projecting  from  the 
fronts  of  its  variedly  tinted  houses.  It  was  all  familiar,  as 
sights  seen  from  infancy  can  alone  be  familiar  ;  but  to-day 
he  looked  at  it  with  a  more  than  usually  absent  gaze. 

Past  the  small,  quaint  shops,  where  French  was  the  only 
language  spoken  by  the  French-looking  men  and  women 
within  ;  past  more  green -shuttered,  iron-balconied,  quaint- 
ly tile-roofed  houses  ;  past  the  Hotel  Royal — no  ordinary 
hostelry,  but  a  landmark  of  history  ;  past  the  foliage-filled 
cathedral  garden,  beyond  which  the  rear  of  the  great  church 
shows  ancient  and  strong  ;  and  so,  still  absent,  preoccu- 
pied, unheeding,  on  to  where  the  French  Quarter  ends 
with  aristocratic  Esplanade  Street,  lined  with  the  homes  of 
wealthy  Creoles.  A  few  more  steps,  then,  entering  and 


THE   MAN  OF  THE  FAMILY.  247 

passing  through  a  garden,  Mr.  Varigny  let  himself  into  a 
stately,  wide-balconied  house  and  was  at  home. 

"  Is  that  you,  Adrien  ?"  cried  a  musical  voice  as  he  en- 
tered the  hall  ;  and  through  a  curtained  doorway  a  girl's 
bright  young  face  glanced  out.  "  Come  !  I  have  news  for 
you." 

"  What  news  ?"  asked  Adrien,  pushing  aside  the  portibre 
and  entering  a  room  full  of  soft,  delicate  colors,  and  the 
peculiar  brightness  of  aspect  which  characterizes  Parisian 
rooms — as  was  not  remarkable,  since  almost  every  object  in 
it  had  come  direct  from  Paris,  where  the  Varignys  rarely 
failed  to  spend  a  portion  of  every  year.  French  of  the 
French,  too,  was  the  figure  it  enshrined.  Octave  Varigny 
was  not  so  handsome  for  a  woman  as  her  brother  for  a 
man  ;  but  she  possessed  the  true  Creole  fascination  of  ap- 
pearance and  manner — a  fascination  difficult  to  define,  but 
still  more  difficult  to  resist,  as  one  sees  it  in  these  delicate- 
ly fashioned,  dark-eyed  girls  who  have  grown  up  among 
the  roses  and  magnolias  of  the  old  French  city.  Such  a 
girl  was  Octave,  polished  to  her  finger-tips,  yet  with  a  gay, 
childlike  simplicity  of  character  and  manner  which  suited 
her  face,  with  its  soft  ivory  tints,  its  mischievous  dark  eyes, 
and  the  smiling  lips,  which  answered  her  brother  now. 

"  What  news  should  it  be  except  of  Diane  ?  I  have  had 
a  letter  from  her.  She  comes  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  !"  Pleasure  flashed  into  his  face.  "  That 
is  sooner  than  you  expected.  I  have  just  said  that  she  will 
be  here  next  week." 

"  To  whom  did  you  say  so  ?" 

"  To  a  man  I  met  at  the  club,  who  has  a  particular  rea- 
son for  wishing  to  meet  her. " 

"  For  wishing  to  meet  Diane  !    Who  is  he  ?" 

"  You  don't  know  him.     His  name  is  Atherton  ;  he  is 


248  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

a  cousin  of  George  Langdon  and  son  of  a  California  mil- 
lionaire." 

"  Does  he  know  Diane?" 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Then  why  has  he  a  particular  reason  for  wishing  to 
meet  her?  Don't  be  so  mysteriously  reticent.,  Adrien. 
One  has  to  drag  out  of  you  whatever  one  wants  to  know." 

"  You  can't  drag  out  of  me  what  I  don't  know,  Octave. 
The  man  of  whom  I  speak  is  more  mysterious  than  I  am. 
I  don't  at  all  know  why  he  wishes  to  meet  Diane,  except 
that  it  is  to  tell  her  of  a  certain  De  Marsillac  whom  he  has 
lately  met,  who  claims  to  represent  the  family  of  which,  as 
we  know,  the  Prevosts  are  the  only  representatives." 

"  But  is  that  remarkable  ?  Do  not  people  often  assume 
names  to  which  they  have  no  right  ?" 

"  Very  often  ;  but  it  seems  that  there  has  been  some- 
thing more  than  the  assuming  of  a  name  in  the  case.  Mr. 
Atherton  says  that  this  De  Marsillac  also  claimed  certain 
rights  of  the  family." 

"What  rights?" 

"  He  did  not  tell  me.  That  is  to  be  the  subject  of  his 
communication  to  Diane.  But  he  was  deeply  struck  by 
hearing  that  Madame  Prevost  had  lately  paid  the  mortgage 
on  her  plantation,  and  asked  if  I  knew  where  the  money  to 
pay  it  had  come  from." 

"  What  a  very  impertinent  question  !  And  you  told 
him " 

"  That  even  if  I  knew,  I  should  not  think  of  speaking 
of  Madame  Pre  vest's  private  affairs." 

"  And  then  ?" 

"Oh,  then  he  apologized.  I  really  think  the  question 
slipped  from  him  unawares  ;  but  his  manner  left  an  im 
pression  upon  me  which  I  cannot  shake  off— a  very  dis- 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  249 

agreeable  impression.  Octave,  where  did  that  money  come 
from  f" 

Octave  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  know,"  she  answered. 
"  Somebody  from  Bayou  Teche  told  me  that  Madame  Pre- 
vost  had  unexpectedly  recovered  a  part  of  the  family  for- 
tune which  was  supposed  to  have  been  lost.  But  I  heard 
no  details,  and  I  am  sure  it  does  not  matter.  We  are  no 
more  concerned  to  know  how  she  obtained  it  than  the  man 
who  asked  the  question." 

"  There  you  are  mistaken.  I  am  much  more  concerned  ; 
for  I  am  the  friend  of — Madame  Prevost,  and  there  is  some 
mystery  which  connects  this  money  with  the  person  calling 
himself  De  Marsillac  whom  Mr.  Atherton  met." 

"  Did  Mr.  Atherton  say  so  ?" 

"  No,  but  his  manner  implied  it." 

"  If  his  manner  implied  it,  why  didn't  you  ask  him  dis- 
tinctly what  was  the  connection  ?" 

' '  Because  I  have  no  right  to  know  more  of  the  private 
affairs  of  the  Prevosts  than  they  choose  to  tell  me.  When 
he  spoke  of  desiring  to  communicate  his  knowledge  to  some 
member  of  the  family,  I  told  him  that  one  of  Madame  Pre- 
vost's  daughters  would  be  here  next  week,  and  that  he 
could  see  her ;  on  which  he  said  that  he  would  certainly 
do  so,  since  their  interest  was  very  deeply  affected  by 
the  acts,  whatever  they  may  have  been,  of  the  false  De 
Marsillac." 

"  But  I  cannot  understand,"  cried  Octave  impatiently, 
' '  how  their  interest  could  be  injuriously  affected  ;  or  how 
they  could  be  in  ignorance  of  his  acts,  if — as  you  say  this 
Mr.  Atherton  implied — he  had  some  connection  with  pay- 
ing off  the  mortgage  on  the  plantation." 

Varigny  spread  out  his  hands  with  a  significant  gesture. 

"  I  do  not  pretend  either  to  understand  or  to  explain," 


250  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

he  said.  "  The  man  talked  in  riddles,  and  I  did  not 
choose  to  press  him  for  an  explanation." 

"But  Diane  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

To  this  positive  assertion  Varigny  made  no  reply ;  so, 
after  waiting  for  a  moment,  Octave  repeated  it  with  slight 
variation. 

"  You  know  that  Diane  can  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it,"  she  said. 

"How  can  I  know?"  he  inquired.  "There  is  some- 
thing mysterious  about  the  paying  of  that  debt.  And  we 
know  this — that  before  it  was  paid,  pressure  was  brought 
to  bear  upon  Diane  to  induce  her  to  save  the  property  by 
marrying  Burnham,  the  son  of  the  old  usurer  who  held  the 
mortgage.  The  insolent  cub  boasted  that  she  had  agreed 
to  do  so." 

"  And  if  she  had,"  said  Octave  boldly,  "  it  was  as  one 
who  would  agree  to  go  to  the  stake  if  no  alternative  offered. 
I  knew  that." 

"  You  knew  it !    And  never  told  me  !" 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Why  should  I  have  told  you?"  she  asked.  "You 
would  have  been  furious  ;  you  would  have  rushed  to  Bayou 
Teche,  and — and  made  Diane  more  miserable.  For  what 
could  you  have  done  ?  Had  you  twenty  thousand  dollars 
to  pay  the  mortgage  and  save  her  mother's  home  ?" 

"  I  would  have  obtained  it.  I  would  have  pledged  my 
credit  to  the  utmost — to  help  Diane.  You  know  it,  and 
she  should  have  known  it." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  ;  and  so  have  started  in  life  with  a 
debt  for  which  you  would  have  reproached  her  later,  in 
your  thoughts  if  not  with  your  lips,"  said  Octave,  with  a 
shrewdness  beyond  her  years.  "  Diane  would  never  have 
consented  to  that.  I  knew  it,  and  so  I  said  nothing.  Be- 


THE    MAX   OF   THE    FAMILY.  251 

sides,  I  hoped  that  the  necessity  might  be  averted — as  it 
has  been. " 

"  But  how  ?  That  brings  us  back  to  the  first  point. 
Where  did  the  money  come  from  ?" 

"  That,  as  you  told  the  inquisitive  stranger  who  started 
the  inquiry,  is  surely  Madame  Prevost's  private  affair." 

"  It  is  also  my  affair,  if  Diane  is  pledged  for  it  again — 
as  she  may  be.  For  who  is  this  man  calling  himself  De 
Marsillac  ?" 

"  An  impostor  it  appears,  since  he  has  no  right  to  the 
name  ;  and  you  cannot  think  that  Diane  would  have  any 
connection  with  such  a  person." 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  think,"  replied  Varigny. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Octave.  "Think  that 
Diane  is  incapable  of  doing  anything  unworthy  ;  and  that 
whatever  mystery  there  may  be  about  Madame  Prevost's 
affairs,  or  about  this  person  called  De  Marsillac,  it  will 
prove  to  be  a  mystery  which  throws  no  shadow  on  her. 
Bah  !" — with  supreme  scorn — "  how  little  faith  men  have  !" 

"  I  have  all  possible  faith  in  Diane,"  replied  her  broth- 
er. "  You  misunderstand  me  entirely.  What  I  fear  is 
that  the  person  whom  Mr.  Atherton  met  did  not  take  the 
name  of  De  Marsillac  without  the  knowledge  of  the  Pre- 
vosts  ;  and  that  if  he  paid  the  debt  of  Madame  Prevost, 
Diane  may  be  bound  to  sacrifice  herself  to  him,  as  she 
would  have  sacrificed  herself  to  Burnham." 

"  Such  a  fear  is  absurd,"  said  Octave  with  decision. 
"  But  I  will  know  all  about  the  matter— if  there  is  any- 
thing to  be  known — as  soon  as  Diane  comes.  In  the  mean 
while  I  wish  that  I  could  meet  this  Mr.  Atherton." 

"You  can  be  gratified.  I  have  promised  to  introduce 
him  to  my  father  this  evening.  If  you  stay  at  home  you 
will  meet  him." 


252  THE   MATST   OF   THE   FA.MILY. 

"  Then  I  shall  certainly  stay  at  home.  And  if  I  cannot 
learn  more  from  him  than  you  have  been  able  to  do,  I  will 

give  you  leave  to  call  me  as  stupid  as — a  man  !" 

*  *  *  *  * 

It  was  a  charming  scene  upon  which  Atherton  entered 
that  evening  in  the  Varigny  house.  The  apartment  into 
which  he  was  ushered,  with  its  Parisian  aspect,  made  a 
harmonious  background  for  the  group  of  persons  assembled 
— a  group  consisting  of  the  family  and  two  or  three  friends 
— than  whom  no  more  distinctively  French  people  could  be 
found  in  Paris  itself.  Atherton  felt  that  he  had  not  ap- 
preciated before  how  purely  the  Gallic  type  had  been  pre- 
served by  these  transplanted  children  of  France  until  he 
saw  this  group,  composed  entirely  of  Creoles,  with  their 
faces,  voices,  gestures,  all  full  of  French  vivacity  and  grace. 
But  the  most  striking  as  well  as  the  central  figure  of  the 
group  was  the  stately  old  gentleman  whom  Adrien  present- 
ed as  his  father.  He  had  a  military  bearing  which  ren- 
dered his  military  title  of  colonel  less  inappropriate  than 
such  titles  usually  are  ;  while  his  slender,  erect  form  pos- 
sessed the  same  look  of  steel -like  strength  which  distin- 
guished that  of  his  son  ;  and  his  snow-white  hair  and  mus- 
tache, both  carefully  cut  and  trimmed,  contrasted  admirably 
with  his  clear  olive  skin,  his  brilliant  dark  eyes,  and  fine, 
aristocratic  features. 

He  received  Atherton  with  great  courtesy,  and  presented 
him  to  his  wife,  to  his  daughter  Mademoiselle  Octave,  and 
to  his  old  friends  Judge  and  Madame  Guichard  and 
Dr.  Latour  ;  after  which  he  invited  him  to  a  seat  beside 
himself. 

''My  son  tells  me,"  he  then  began,  "that  you  are  a 
stranger  in  New  Orleans,  and  that  you  are  much  interest- 
ed in  our  old  city." 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  253 

"  I  am  a  stranger  in  New  Orleans— yes/'  Atherton  an- 
swered. "  But,  since  my  mother  was  born  here,  my  inter- 
est is  perhaps  more  than  a  stranger  would  ordinarily 
feel." 

'  Your  mother  was  born  here  !     May  I  ask  her  name  ?" 

"  Langdon — Mary  Langdon." 

"Ah  !"— a  very  significant  interjection.  "  I  know  the 
name.  It  belongs  to  the  later  time  of  New  Orleans ;  or, 
rather,  to  what  we  used  to  call  the  '  American  Quarter,'  as 
people  now  speak  of  the  '  French  Quarter/  " 

"I  regret,"  observed  Atherton,  smiling,  "that  this  is 
the  utmost  I  can  do  towards  claiming  connection  with  the 
true  New  Orleans.  But,  although  my  blood  belongs  to  the 
other  side  of  Canal  Street,  my  interest,  I  assure  you,  is  all 
on  this  side,  in  your  fascinating  old  city." 

"  You  find  it  fascinating  ?  Ah,  it  was  once  the  only  city 
in  America  worth  living  in  ;  but  it  is  now  a  shadow,  a 
ghost  of  what  it  was.  As  for  the  new  city — bah  !  it  is  a 
commonplace  American  town,  with  no  distinction  save 
what  is  lent  by  its  connection  with  us." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  question  that,"  answered  Atherton 
very  sincerely.  "  No  city  in  America — I  mean,  of  course, 
in  the  States — has  a  history  so  picturesque  and  romantic  as 
that  of  New  Orleans.  And  what  is  recorded  of  its  past 
must  be  but  a  small  part  of  what  existed." 

Colonel  Varigny's  lifted  hands  and  shoulders  signified 
that  it  was  a  smaller  part  than  words  could  express. 

"  No  one — not  even  my  old  friend  Judge  Gayarre — has 
ever  been  able  to  put  on  record  all  the  brilliant  and  pic- 
turesque life  of  Creole  Louisiana,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  re- 
member what  Talleyrand  said  of  French  society  before  the 
Revolution  ? — '  Qui  n'a  pas  vecu  avant  1789,  ne  connait 
pas  la  douceur  de  vivre.'1  So  it  is  of  our  Louisiana,  Who 


254  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

did  not  know  it  before  war  and  the  American  element 
changed  it,  does  not  know  it  at  all. " 

"  I  told  you  how  it  was  with  my  father,"  said  the  younger 
Varigny,  approaching.  "  He  is  a  conservative  of  conserva- 
tives, and  has  no  love  for  the  new  order  of  things.  But 
have  you  asked  the  question  you  desire  to  have  answered  ? 
No  ?  Mr.  Atherton,"  turning  to  his  father,  "  wishes  a  lit- 
tle information  about  the  De  Marsillac  family.  Am  I  not 
right  in  telling  him  that  the  family,  as  a  family,  is  extinct, 
although  the  blood  survives  in  the  Prevosts  ?" 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  replied  his  father.  "  Poor 
Achille  de  Marsillac  and  his  two  sons  all  perished  in  the 
war.  I  know  of  no  family  that  suffered  more  severely. 
Gabrielle,  the  daughter — ah,  there  was  a  beauty  for  you  !— 
who  married  Louis  Prevost,  alone  represents  the  family 
now." 

"  Was  there  no  other  branch  ?"  asked  Atherton. 

"  Certainly  not,"  was  the  decided  reply.  "  The  family 
had  no  branches — at  least  in  Louisiana.  You  see,  they  had 
not  been  very  long  planted  here.  They  were  '  San  Domin- 
guais  ' — that  is,  refugees  from  the  island  of  Santo  Domin- 
go at  the  time  of  the  insurrection  of  the  slaves." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Atherton,  who  had  heard  this  fact  be- 
fore. "  And  you  are  sure  there  was  no  offshoot  of  the 
stem  ?" 

"  Perfectly  sure.  I  have  often  heard  Achille  de  Marsil- 
lac say  that  his  father  was  the  sole  survivor  of  his  family, 
while  he  himself  was  an  only  son.  So  you  see  there  is  no 
possible  place  for  an  offshoot." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Atherton,  4<  I  have  lately  met  a  young 
man,  almost  a  boy,  who  not  only  called  himself  De  Marsil- 
lac, but  who  seemed  to  have  the  family  history  at  his  fin- 
gers' ends." 


THE   MAK  OF  THE   FAMILY.  255 

"  That  proves  nothing.  He  probably  belongs  to  some 
obscure  Creole  family  ;  and,  borrowing  the  name  of  De 
Marsillac,  thought  it  well  to  support  his  claim  by  allusions 
to  the  history  of  the  family,  which  is  sufficiently  well 
known." 

"  Since  Mr.  Atherton  is  so  much  interested  in  the  De 
Marsillacs,"  said  Octave,  approaching  so  unexpectedly  that 
Atherton  started  a  little  as  he  turned  towards  her,  "  he  may 
like  to  have  an  opportunity  to  meet  a  member  of  the  fam- 
ily. You  know,  papa,  we  are  expecting  a  visit  from  Diane 
Prevost." 

"  Certainly,"  assented  her  father.  "A  charming  girl, 
but  hardly  so  beautiful  as  her  mother.  A  daughter  of  Ma- 
dame Prevost,"  he  added,  addressing  Atherton,  "  who,  as 
I  have  said,  now  alone  represents  the  De  Marsillac  family." 

But  Atherton  was  for  a  moment  struck  dumb.  Diane  ! 
It  was  a  name  with  which  his  ears  were  most  familiar  ;  but 
Diane  de  Marsillac,  not  Diane  Prevost  !  Were  they  the 
same  ?  And  if  so,  who  was  the  youth  who,  masquerading 
as  Henri  de  Marsillac,  claimed  to  be  the  brother  of  a  girl 
who  had  no  brother  ?  He  felt  bewildered  by  these  recur- 
ring clues  to  the  mystery  that  seemed  to  grow  deeper  rather 
than  clearer  as  he  pursued  his  inquiries. 

Octave,  watching  him  closely,  saw  that  he  was  visibly 
startled  by  the  name  of  Diane.  "What  can  it  mean?" 
she  thought  ;  and  her  own  curiosity  waked  as  strongly  as 
her  desire  to  satisfy  her  brother. 

"  Papa  is  right,"  she  said,  addressing  Atherton.  "  Miss 
Prevost  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  girls  in  Louisiana  ; 
and  well  worth  meeting  for  her  own  sake,  whether  or 
not  she  can  throw  any  light  upon  your  mysterious  De 
Marsillac." 

"  What  possible  light  can   Diane  throw  upon  him  ?" 


256  THE   MAK   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

asked  her  father.  "  She  can  only  repeat  what  I  tell  you — 
that  she  has  no  relation  of  the  name." 

"  It  will  at  least  interest  her  to  hear  of  this  person  who 
claims  to  be  one,"  said  Octave.  "  He  seems  to  have  taken 
a  good  deal  of  unnecessary  trouble  to  deceive  Mr.  Atherton, 
who  had  never  heard  of  the  De  Marsillacs.  It  was  not  in 
Louisiana  that  you  met  him  ?"  she  asked,  turning  to  that 
gentleman. 

"  No,"  he  answered.     "  It  was  in — the  West  Indies." 

' '  The  West  Indies  !  But  in  that  case  he  may  have  been 
a  genuine  De  Marsillac.  They  were  West  Indians,  you 
know." 

"  Octave,"  said  her  father  irritably,  "  did  you  not  hear 
me  state  that  the  only  survivor  of  the  West  Indian  family 
was  the  father  of  Achille  de  Marsillac  ?" 

"  Yes,  papa  ;  but  there  might  have  been  some  mistake 
about  all  the  rest  of  the  family  perishing  in  the  insurrec- 
tion. Such  mistakes  are  made  sometimes." 

"  It  was  not  a  mistake  in  this  instance,"  answered  Ather- 
ton. "  The  person  whom  I  met  distinctly  asserted  that  he 
was  a  Louisianian. " 

"  And  you  know  him  well  ?" 

"Quite  well." 

"  And  he  was — that  is,  seemed  to  be — a  gentleman  ?" 

"  I  should  have  said  at  the  time  when  I  was  associated 
with  him,  thoroughly  so  ;  in  fact,  of  an  unusual  refine- 
ment. He  struck  me  as  one  who  had  been  brought  up 
under  altogether  feminine  influences,  and  he  said " 

"  Yes,  he  said " 

But  Atherton,  who  had  paused  abruptly,  did  not  continue 
at  this  question.  He  was  silent  a  moment  longer — a  mo- 
ment in  which  he  decided  that  he  would  not  be  drawn  on 
to  speak  further  until  he  had  a  little  more  light  upon  the 


THE   MAN"   OF  THE   FAMILY.  257 

mystery  which  was  puzzling  him.  Looking  into  Octave's 
eyes  bright  with  interest  and  curiosity,  he  replied  quietly  : 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  prefer  to  add  nothing  more.  It  is 
possible  that  I  might  be  doing  an  injustice,  for  which  I 
should  be  sorry.  It  is  also  barely  possible  that  Miss  Pre- 
vost  may  be  able  to  throw  some  light  on  this  person  ;  and 
if  so,  we  will  leave  the  matter  of  identifying  him  to  her." 

And,  as  if  this  was  not  sufficiently  provoking,  Adrien 
must  needs  murmur,  as  rising  he  strolled  past  his  sister  : 

"  You  see,  you  have  learned  no  more  than  I." 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  DIANE,"  said  Octave,  "  I  really  think  that  you  grow 
prettier  as  you  grow  older. " 

Diane,  accustomed  to  admiration  as  to  breath,  smiled 
serenely  in  reply  to  this  remark  ;  and,  leaning  back  in  a 
nest  of  silken  cushions  on  a  broad,  low  couch,  regarded  her 
friend  appreciatively. 

"  You  are  very  pretty  yourself,  Octave,"  she  observed, 
with  an  air  of  candor. 

"  1 — bah  !"  returned  Octave.  "  I  am  ordinary,  com- 
monplace :  you  cannot  walk  down  Eoyal  Street  without 
meeting  a  dozen  girls  who  look  like  me.  But  you  are  re- 
markable— a  beauty  such  as  men  rave  over  and  artists 
paint.  Ma  ch&re,  you  should  not  bury  yourself  on  Bayou 
Teche." 

"  It  has  been  very  necessary,  burying  myself  on  Bayou 
Teche  up  to  the  present  time,"  said  Diane  simply.  "  But, 
now  that  mamma's  debt  is  paid  and  her  affairs  easier,  it  is 
possible  that  we  may  go  into  the  world  a  little  more." 


258  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  You  should  go  to  Paris,  and  Carolus  Duran  should  paint 
your  portrait." 

"  Oh  !"  laughing  a  little,  "  that  is  more  than  we  count 
upon  doing.  But  it  is  settled  that  mamma  will  take  a 
house  in  New  Orleans  next  winter,  and  gather  her  friends 
about  her  again." 

"  That  is  charming  news.  May  I  say  how  glad  we  all 
were  to  hear  that  she  had  been  able  to  pay  her  debt? 
0  Diane  !  how  could  you  have  run  the  risk  you  did  in  prom- 
ising to  marry  that  dreadful  man  if  she  had  not  been  able 
to  pay  it  ?" 

"  It  was  not  a  risk  but  a  certainty,"  said  Diane  quietly. 
"  I  should  undoubtedly  have  married  him,  had  no  means 
of  payment  been  found  ;  for  it  was  the  only  way  to  save  the 
home  for  mamma,  grand^m^rt,  the  girls.  But  it  is  a  mis- 
take to  say  that  I  promised.  Mamma  would  not  allow  me 
to  promise  ;  she  only  said  that  the  offer  would  be  taken  into 
consideration.  She  did  not  want  to  say  as  much  as  that, 
but  I  made  her  do  so." 

Octave  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  up  towards  the 
ceiling. 

"  You  are  a  heroine  !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  No,"  replied  Diane,  with  the  same  absolute  simplicity. 
"  It  was  a  thing  that  in  my  mind  did  not  admit  of  a  ques- 
tion. People  say  now  that  it  is  not  a  girl's  duty  to  sacri- 
fice herself  and  her  own  inclinations  for  others  ;  that  she 
should  say  to  her  parents,  '  Go,  starve,  suffer,  do  what  you 
will  :  I  shall  not  give  up  my  chance  of  happiness  and  love 
for  your  sake. '  But  it  seems  to  me  that  is  only  another 
name  for  selfishness.  When  one  can  do  something — and 
has  the  opportunity  to  do  it  but  once  in  a  lifetime — for 
those  one  loves,  those  who  have  done  all  in  their  power  for 
one's  self,  I  think  a  girl  is  bound  to  remember  that  there 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  259 

is  one  thing  better  and  higher  than  love  and  happiness  in 
the  world,  and  that  is  doing  one's  duty." 

''  But  the  need  must  be  great,  Diane,  to  justify  such  a 
sacrifice. ' ' 

"  Ah,  cela  va  sans  dire  !  Only  extreme  need  will  justify 
it — not  merely  wishes  based  on  cupidity  or  ambition.  But 
our  need  was  very  great.  If  you  could  know  the  long 
agony  of  the  struggle  I  have  witnessed — if  you  could  know 
how  I  have  prayed  for  the  opportunity  to  help  poor  mam- 
ma— you  would  not  think  I  could  hesitate  when  the  chance 
came.  Yet,  after  all,  it  was  Yvonne  wht)  saved  her  and 
me — not  I." 

"  Yvonne  !"  Octave  stared.  "  Why,  what  had  Yvonne 
to  do  with  it  ?  I  thought — I  heard — that  your  mother  re- 
covered some  money  which  had  been  supposed  lost " 

"  That"  (hastily)  "  is  true.  I  only  meant  that  Yvonne 
happened  to  find  the  papers  and  managed  the  affair.  She 
is  so  clever  and  so  brave,  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Octave,  but  this  time  absently  ;  for  she 
suddenly  remembered  Atherton  and  the  mysterious  De 
Marsillac.  Now  was  her  opportunity  to  question  Diane 
and  find  out  whatever  was  to  be  learned  regarding  this  per- 
son. "  I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you,"  she  said  quickly, 
"  that  there  is  some  one  here  who  desires  very  much  to  see 
you — a  gentleman,  a  stranger  in  New  Orleans." 

"  To  see  me  !    Why  ?" 

"  In  order  that  he  may  inform  you  that  he  has  lately 
met  —in  the  West  Indies,  I  believe— a  person  calling  him- 
self De  Marsillac,  and  claiming  to  represent Diane, 

what  is  the  matter  ?" 

Diane  had  sprung  from  her  cushions  and  sat  upright, 
with  the  color  suddenly  gone  from  her  rose-leaf  cheeks  and 
her  eyes  opened  widely  in  consternation. 


260  THE   MAN  OF  THE   FAMILY. 

"Who  is  this  man?"  she  asked,  or  rather  gasped. 
"  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"  His  name  is  Atherton.  He  is  rather  an  agreeable  per- 
son, considering  that  he  is  said  to  be  a  millionaire  ;  and 

Diane,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  No,  I  never  saw  him,"  replied  Diane  hastily  ;  "  but  I 
know — something  of  him.  And  I  don't  wish  to  meet  him. 
In  fact,  rather  than  meet  him,  I  would  go  home  at  once." 

"  Going  home  would  not  help  you,"  said  Octave,  who 
was  greatly  astonished  and  intensely  curious.  "  For  he  is 
so  anxious  to  solve  the  mystery  of  the  De  Marsillac  whom 
he  met,  and  also  to  communicate  to  a  member  of  your  fam- 
ily some  important  intelligence  affecting  your  interest 
which  he  possesses,  that  I  think  he  would  have  gone  to 
Bayou  Teche  to  see  your  mother,  if  he  had  not  learned 
that  you  were  coming  here." 

Then  was  seen  the  almost  unprecedented  spectacle  of 
Diane  in  a  passion.  Color  flamed  into  her  cheeks  and  light 
flashed  from  her  eyes  as  she  stamped  her  foot  upon  the 
floor. 

"  How  dare  he  be  so  intrusive,  so  interfering  !"  she 
cried.  "  What  concern  is  it  of  his  who  the  De  Marsillac 
was,  or  how  our  interest  is  affected  ?  Oh,  how  I  detest 
meddlers  and — and  busy-bodies  !" 

"  Then  you  know  this  De  Marsillac?"  asked  the  young 
girl,  forgetting  that  questions  so  direct  are  not  permitted 
by  the  code  of  good  manners. 

Diane  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence — a  moment 
in  which  she  seemed  to  hesitate  how  much  to  say  or  leave 
unsaid.  Then  : 

"  Yes,  I  know — him,"  she  replied.  "  But  I  will  not 
answer  any  questions  of  a  presumptuous  stranger  about 
him." 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  261 

"  But  I  am  not  a  presumptuous  stranger  ;  and  you  will 
tell  me  who  he  is,  will  you  not— for  papa  says  that  there  is 
no  De  Marsillac  living  ?" 

"  Your  father  is  mistaken,"  said  Diane  proudly.  "  We 
are  De  Marsillacs.  We  have  a  right  to  bear  the  name  if 
we  choose.  I  like  the  Spanish  fashion  of  bearing  the  names 
of  both  parents.  If  we  were  Spanish,  we  should  call  our- 
selves Prevost  y  De  Marsillac." 

"  True,  but  this  man  whom  Mr.  Atherton  met  is  not  one 
of  you,  so  how  has  he  the  right  ?" 

"  In  the  same  manner  that  we  have." 

"But  papa  says " 

Again  the  girl  stamped  her  foot  in  uncontrollable  impa- 
tience. 

"  Your  father  does  not  know  everything  that  possibly  is 
to  be  known  about  our  family,"  she  said.  "I  do  not 
choose  to  enter  into  our  genealogical  history  for  the  bene- 
fit of  Mr.  Atherton.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I  know  the 
person  of  whom  he  speaks,  and  that  I  decline  to  gratify  his 
curiosity  respecting  him." 

Octave  was  silent  for  a  moment,  so  much  was  she  aston- 
ished by  this  strange  heat  and  vehemence  in  one  usually  so 
gentle  and  placid  as  Diane.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Who 
could  the  person  be  concerning  whom  she  showed  such  in- 
terest and  excitement  ?  The  recollection  of  her  brother's 
fears  and  suspicions  recurred  to  Octave.  Was  the  man  in- 
deed some  mysterious  lover  ? 

"  Diane,"  she  said  gravely,  "tell  me  only  one  thing  : 
are  you  bound  in  any  way  to  this — person  ?' ' 

"  Bound  !    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Oh"  (impatiently),  "  you  know  what  I  mean  !  Is  he 
your  lover  ?  Have  you  perhaps  pledged  yourself  to  marry  him 
as  you  were  ready  to  pledge  yourself  to  marry  Burnham  ?' 


202  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

Diane  stared  for  a  moment,  as  if  the  idea  thus  suggested 
was  so  amazing  as  to  require  a  little  time  for  taking  it  in  ; 
and  then  she  astonished  Octave  still  further  by  falling  back 
on  her  cushions  in  a  paroxysm  of  almost  hysterical  laugh- 
ter. Now,  to  see  any  one  laugh  convulsively,  uncontrol- 
lably, without  possessing  the  faintest  conception  of  the 
cause  of  the  merriment,  is  somewhat  trying  to  most  peo- 
ple ;  and  Octave  was  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  She 
regarded  Diane  in  silence  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then 
spoke  stiffly  : 

' '  I  have  been  fortunate  in  amusing  you.  But  I  really 
fail  to  see  what  there  is  so  exceedingly  ridiculous  in  the 
question  I  asked.  You  have  had  lovers — many  of  them,  I 
believe  ;  and  you  were  ready  to  pledge  yourself  to  marry 
Burnham." 

"You  know  why,"  said  Diane,  sitting  up  again  and 
wiping  the  tears  of  laughter  from  her  eyes.  ' '  But  there 
is  nothing  of  the  kind  in  this  case.  The — person  of  whom 
Mr.  Atherton  talks  has  indeed  done  us  a  great  service,  but 
he  asks  no  reward  for  it. ' ' 

"  That  is  not  saying  that  he  does  not  hope  for  one,"  re- 
turned Octave  suspiciously.  "  Diane,  I  believe — I  really 
believe  that  you  are  in  love  with  him." 

"  I  have  a  great  affection  for  him,"  said  Diane  ;  "  but  it 
is  absurd  to  talk  of  being  in  love  in  the  sense  you  mean." 

"  Why  is  it  absurd  ?  Mr.  Atherton  says  that  he  is 
young,  agreeable,  a  gentleman — Diane,  how  can  you  laugh 
in  that  manner  when  you  know  that  I  am  so  concerned  ? 
Because  if  you  are  bound  to  any  one  else  it  would  break 
Adrien's  heart." 

"  Oh,  no  !"  said  Diane — but  she  ceased  to  laugh,  and 
her  blush  was  beautiful  to  see — "  it  would  not  break  his 
heart.  Men's  hearts  are  very — elastic,  shall  we  say  ?  But 


THE   MAK   OF   THE    FAMILY.  263 

there  need  be  no  question  of  the  kind  ;  for  I  am  certainly 
not  bound  to  any  one." 

"And  you  will  not  tell  me  who  is  this  De  Marsillac, 
whom  papa  and  Adrien  and  Mr.  Atherton  have  decided 
must  be  an  impostor  ?" 

"  An  impostor  !"  If  Diane's  blush  had  been  beautiful, 
her  wrath  was  now  splendid  to  see.  "  How  dare  they  make 
such  a  charge  against  one  of  whom  they  know  nothing — on 
the  word  of  a  prying,  meddling  stranger  !"  she  cried.  "  I 
said  that  I  would  not  see  Mr.  Atherton  ;  but  I  will  see 
him,  in  order  to  tell  him,  once  for  all,  that  we  know  the 
De  Marsillac  whom  he  met,  that  we  acknowledge  his  claim 
upon  us  and  his  right  to  do  all  that  he  did,  and  that  to 
utter  the  word  '  impostor  '  in  connection  with  him  is — is 
an  offence  and  an  insult  to  all  of  us." 

"  Diane  !"  Octave  simply  collapsed  into  the  depths  of 
her  chair.  "  I  don't  know  you,"  she  murmured.  "  I 
never  saw  you  so  excited  before.  There  is  no  good  in  deny- 
ing it — you  must  be  in  love  with  the  man." 

It  was  a  little  after  this  that  Adrien  Varigny  found  an 
opportunity  to  ask  his  sister  if  she  had  mentioned  to  Diane 
that  Atherton  wished  to  give  her  some  information  which 
might  be  of  importance  to  her  family. 

"  Yes,"  Octave  replied,  "  I  have  told  her  ;  and  I  think 
Mr.  Atherton  will  find  himself  snubbed  as  it  has  perhaps 
never  been  his  fortune  to  be  snubbed  before,  when  he 
begins  to  talk  to  her  of  the  mysterious  De  Marsillac." 

"  Why  ?"  asked  her  brother,  startled.  "  Does  she  know 
the  fellow  ?" 

"  Very  well,  apparently  ;  and  deeply  resents  his  having 
been  called  an  impostor.  She  declares  that  he  is  no  im- 
postor, but  has  as  much  right  to  bear  the  name  of  De  Mar- 
sillac as  the  Prevosts  would  have,  did  they  choose  to  do  so." 


264  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  Then  we  have  all  been  mistaken,  and  there  is  another 
branch  of  the  family  ?" 

"So  it  would  appear  ;  but  she  is  so  far  like  Mr.  Ather- 
ton  that  she  talks  in  riddles.  This  De  Marsillac  must  cer- 
tainly be  very  mysterious  since  he  inspires  so  much  mystery 
in  others." 

"  He  is  a  mystery,"  said  Varigny.  "  I  do  not  under- 
stand at  all  who  he  can  be,  or  how  he  is  connected  with 
them  ;  and  still  less  how  his  doings  have  been  able  to  affect 
their  interest.  Has  Diane  given  you  no  information  on 
these  points  ?" 

"Absolutely  none  at  all.  She  only  denies  that  she  is 
bound  to  him  in  any  way  ;  in  fact,  she  went  into  paroxysms 
of  laughter  when  I  asked  the  question." 

"  Paroxysms  of  laughter  !  That  does  not  sound  like 
Diane." 

"  Nothing  that  she  said  or  did  was  like  Diane.  You 
didn't  suppose  she  could  fall  into  a  passion,  did  you  ? 
But  she  was  simply  furious  over  what  she  called  Mr.  Ather- 
ton's  meddling  interference." 

"  In  that  case,"  answered  De  Varigny  gravely,  "  I  had 
better  tell  Mr.  Atherton  that  it  is  unnecessary  for  him  to 
volunteer  information  which  is  so  entirely  undesired.  The 
matter  is  no  concern  of  his  ;  and  I  think  he  is  enough  of  a 
gentleman  to  drop  it  when  he  learns  that  Miss  Prevost  does 
not  wish  to  hear  anything  that  he  has  to  say." 

"Yes,"  observed  Octave  meditatively,  "that  will  be 
best.  Tell  him  that  the  family  know  De  Marsillac,  ac- 
knowledge him  as  a  connection,  and  endorse  all  that  he  has 
done — whatever  that  may  be.  This  is  what  Diane  said  that 
she  would  tell  him,  and  I  think  it  covers  the  case." 

"  Very  completely,"  replied  Varigny.  He  rose  and  took 
up  his  hat  as  he  spoke.  "  So  completely,"  he  went  on, 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  265 

"  that  it  will  silence  me  as  well  as  Atherton.  I  do  not  like 
mysteries— especially  mysteries  connected  with  men  whom 
no  one  knows,  and  with  money.  The  conjunction  looks 
badly.  Until  Miss  Prevost  chooses  to  honor  her  friends 
with  her  confidence,  her  friends  can  do  nothing  but  imi- 
tate her  reticence  in  all  respects." 

"  Papa  will  be  certain  to  question  her  on  the  subject," 
said  Octave  hopefully  ;  for  her  curiosity  was  so  much  ex- 
cited that  the  policy  of  reticence  by  no  means  commended 
itself  to  her. 

"  I  will  request  him  not  to  do  so,"  said  her  brother. 
"  The  subject  shall  not  be  mentioned  again  unless  Diane 
chooses  to  open  it  voluntarily." 

"  And  if  she  never  does  ?" 

"  Then  for  me  it  is  closed  forever." 

And  with  these  words  he  left  the  room 


CHAPTER  IV. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Diane  heard  no  more  of  the  in- 
formation Mr.  Atherton  desired  to  afford  her  ;  and  that 
gentleman  found  himself  unexpectedly  checked,  as  if  by  a 
dead-wall,  when  Adrien  Varigny  ceremoniously  told  him 
that  Miss  Prevost  was  perfectly  cognizant  both  of  the  exist- 
ence and  the  doings  of  the  De  Marsillac  whom  he  had  met, 
and  therefore  any  communication  which  he  had  thought  of 
making  to  her  was  unnecessary. 

"I  am  sure  you  will  pardon  me  for  also  suggesting," 
added  the  young  Creole,  "  that,  since  this  is  the  case,  it  will 
be  best  to  drop  the  subject,  as  far  as  any  inquiries  for  this 
person  in  New  Orleans  are  concerned." 


266  THE    MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  In  other  words,  to  respect  the  mystery  of  the  family," 
said  Atherton,  smiling  slightly.  "  You  need  have  no  fear. 
I  will  make  no  further  inquiries.  It  is  very  evident  now 
that  it  is  not,  as  I  was  inclined  to  suspect,  a  case  of  impos- 
ture and  robbery  ;  but  that  it  is  a  family  secret,  with  which 
no  stranger  has  a  right  to  interfere." 

"  It  is  at  least  a  subject  upon  which  they  have  a  right  to 
be  reticent  if  they  please." 

"  Undoubtedly  ;  and  which  has,  therefore,  lost  interest 
for  me.  Why  they  should  make  a  mystery  of  what  they 
had  a  perfect  right  to  do  is  their  own  affair,  and  I  shall  give 
it  no  further  thought." 

In  saying  this  the  speaker  not  only  promised,  as  many  of 
us  often  do,  more  than  he  was  able  to  perform,  but  he  also 
supplied  much  food  for  thought  to  Varigny.  "  Make  a 
mystery  of  what  they  had  a  perfect  right  to  do."  These 
words  rang  in  the  young  man's  mind  ;  and,  though  he 
would  have  disdained  to  ask  an  explanation — in  fact,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  would  have  listened  to  an  explanation 
had  Atherton  volunteered  one — it  was  impossible  not  to 
ask  himself  what  was  meant.  What  had  they  a  perfect 
right  to  do  ?  What  was  it  that  had  been  done  for  them 
by  this  mysterious  De  Marsillac,  in  whose  behalf  even 
Diane  the  gentle  was  roused  to  passion  ? 

There  is  nothing  which  has  such  power  to  change  and 
absorb  a  man  as  a  question  like  this,  which  he  is  continu- 
ally asking  himself  and  which  he  has  no  power  to  answer. 
Diane  was  not  long  in  perceiving  a  great  difference  in 
Varigny.  He  was  all  that  courtesy  demanded  he  should  be 
in  his  father's  house,  and  to  his  sister's  guest,  but  he  was 
no  more.  The  pervading  attention,  the  absorption  in  her- 
self, the  constant  homage  of  look  and  manner  even  more 
than  of  word  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed  from  him 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  267 

— these  things  were  absent.  At  home  he  was  silent  and 
apparently  preoccupied  ;  in  society  he  drew  back  and  al- 
lowed other  men  to  surround  her.  There  was  no  lack  of 
other  men  ;  but,  first  with  wonder  and  then  with  a  grow- 
ing pang,  Diane  recognized  that  the  only  man  for  whose 
attention  she  cared  no  longer  cared  to  bestow  that  attention 
upon  her. 

It  was  singular,  perhaps,  that  she  did  not  connect  this 
change  with  the  mystery  which  in  her  conversation  with 
Octave  she  had  left  unsolved.  But  Diane  possessed  no 
great  power  of  imagination.  She  had  attached  no  impor- 
tance to  her  own  refusal  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  her 
friend  or  to  answer  Atherton's  inquiries.  She  had  been 
greatly  relieved  that  the  latter  had  not  appeared  to  press 
his  inquiries  in  person,  and  that  the  Varignys  had  abstained 
from  questions  which  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  an- 
swer ;  but  she  never  for  a  moment  thought  of  connecting 
the  marked  change  in  Adrien  with  her  own  silence  on  a 
subject  which  she  would  have  said  did  not  concern  him 
at  all. 

How  much  the  change  in  him  concerned  her,  however, 
she  felt  daily  more  and  more.  With  what  a  light  heart  she 
had  come  to  New  Orleans,  relieved  from  the  strain  of  finan- 
cial trouble,  and  from  the  terrible  possibility  of  having  to 
sacrifice  herself  to  the  obnoxious  Burnham  ;  free  to  take 
up  her — what  shall  one  call  it  ?  Flirtation  is  too  vulgar, 
love  affair  too  serious  a  term  to  characterize  what  had  ex- 
isted between  Adrien  Varigny  and  herself.  It  had  been 
impalpable  as  a  perfume,  but  as  exquisite,  tender,  delicate  ; 
the  first  dawn  of  an  attraction  that  needed  only  oppor- 
tunity to  broaden  into  the  full  glow  of  love.  Diane  had 
whispered  no  articulate  hopes  to  her  heart  as  she  sped  on 
her  way  towards  New  Orleans  ;  but  she  had  been  filled  with 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

a  sense  of  delightful  expectation — of  something  indefinite, 
yet  certain  as  the  coming  of  spring,  the  opening  of  flow- 
ers, the  advance  of  roseate  morning.  And  now  suddenly  a 
strange  frost  came  into  the  air — a  strange  bar  to  all  ad- 
vance. What  was  it  ?  "Were  men  indeed  so  fickle  ?  Had 
Adrien  forgotten  all  that  he  seemed  to  feel  when  they  last 
met  ?  Poor  Diane,  waking  to  a  knowledge  of  how  little 
she  had  forgotten,  asked  herself  these  questions,  but  found 
no  answer  to  them. 

And  then,  even  in  her  sweet  nature,  something  like  re- 
sentment roused.  Was  it  necessary  for  him  to  indicate  so 
plainly  that  he  had  changed  ?  Need  he  be  so  distant  ? 
Need  he,  who  last  winter  had  claimed  every  moment  of  her 
society  which  he  possibly  could,  now  draw  aside  and  leave 
her  to  others  in  a  manner  so  marked  ?  She  lifted  her 
graceful  head  with  pride,  even  if  her  lip  quivered,  as  she 
said  these  things  to  herself  ;  and,  while  it  was  not  possible 
for  any  one  to  be  less  of  a  coquette,  there  is  not  perhaps  a 
woman  living  who  would  not,  for  the  pang  of  wounded 
feeling  and  wounded  pride  at  her  heart,  have  smiled  a  little 
more  sweetly  on  those  who  thronged  around  her  to  take 
the  place  of  the  one  who  had  withdrawn. 

Matters  were  in  this  state  during  the  crowded,  gayety- 
filled  days  of  the  Carnival,  in  which  New  Orleans  excels  all 
other  cities  of  the  world.  Indeed,  the  true  Carnival  spirit 
survives  here  alone,  whatever  fictitious  attempts  may  be 
made  to  revive  it  elsewhere.  Mardi  Gras  in  New  Orleans 
means  not  only  gorgeous  processions,  magnificent  scenic 
displays,  but  the  abounding  mirth  of  all  classes  of  the 
population — a  casting  aside  of  the  cares  of  life  ;  a  return, 
as  it  were,  to  the  Golden  Age  of  childlike  enjoyment  for 
this  brief  period.  And  during  these  scenes,  on  Mardi 
Gras  itself,  when  Canal  Street  is  thronged  from  wall  to 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.  269 

wall  with  masks  and  revellers,  the  playful  fooling  never  be- 
comes disorder  ;  the  whole  city  gives  itself  up  to  mirth, 
but  the  mirth  does  not  degenerate  into  license.  It  was  this 
which  struck  Atherton  most  as  he  sat,  on  that  famous  day, 
in  the  window  of  the  club  where  his  cousin  had  introduced 
him,  and  looked  over  the  gay  and  motley  throng  which 
filled  the  street  before  him. 

"  This  is  the  genuine  thing,"  he  said  to  Langdon,  who 
sat  beside  him  ;  "  this  is  the  Carnival.  In  other  places  its 
attempted  celebration  is  either  a  dismal  failure — for  more 
and  more  are  the  people  of  the  world  forgetting  what  mirth 
is — or  it  becomes  a  mere  spectacle  :  a  parade  at  which  the 
populace  stare,  but  in  which  they  take  no  part.  Here, 
however,  it  is  the  Carnival  of  the  people.  This  scene  car- 
ries one  back  to  Carnivals  in  the  Rome  and  Naples  of  the 
past.  There  is  nothing  perfunctory  or  make-believe  in  the 
gayety  of  these  maskers  ;  and  their  pranks  are  to  me  better 
worth  seeing  than  even  the  gorgeous  procession  of  Rex." 

"  Rex's  procession  wasn't  bad,"  observed  Langdon,  with 
the  moderation  of  one  who  had  witnessed  many  Carnivals. 
"  In  fact,  it  was  expected  to  be  better  than  usual  this  year, 
because  Harvey — who  is  Rex,  you  know — is  not  only  a  very 
rich  man,  but  a  man  of  great  taste.  By  the  bye,  1  suppose 
you  have  heard  who  is  to  be  his  queen  ?" 

"  Not  I.  Names  are  merely  names  to  me  here,  you 
know.  My  acquaintance  is  very  limited. " 

"  That"  (in  an  injured  tone)  "  is  your  own  fault,  I  am 
sure.  You  might  know  everybody,  if  you  would,  and  be 
fited  to  your  heart's  content.  "We  are  not  more  fond  of 
millionaires  than  our  neighbors— perhaps  not  quite  so  fond 
— but  we  appreciate  them,  nevertheless ;  and  are  quite 
ready  to  kill  our  fatted  calves  for  them.  But  you  will  not 
eat  the  fatted  calf  after  it  has  been  killed." 


270  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  been  surfeited  with  fatted  calves,  and 
would  prefer  to  be  distinguished  in  some  other  manner 
than  by  the  ticket  '  millionaire. '  Not  that  I  go  in  for 
cheap  cynicism  on  the  subject  of  the  world's  worship  of 
wealth.  But  I  am  not  fond  of  profiting  by  it.  Besides,  I 
did  not  come  here  to  enter  society. " 

"  I  wonder  what  you  did  come  for  !"  thought  Langdon  ; 
but  he  only  said  aloud  :  "  Of  course  it's  a  matter  of  taste  ; 
but  there  are  a  good  many  people  here  who  would  like  to 
meet  you,  and  whom  I  think  you  would  enjoy  knowing. 
You  must  certainly  look  in  on  the  balls  to-night,  however. 
Rex's  ball  will  be  a  magnificent  affair.  As  I  began  to  tell 
you,  he  has  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  Louisiana  for  his 
queen." 

"  Who  is  she  ?"  (indifferently). 

"  Miss  Prevost — Diane  Prevost.  She — but  what  is  the 
matter  ?  Do  you  know  her  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Atherton,  who  had  given  a  start  and 
glance  of  awakened  interest  at  the  name.  "  I  do  not  know 
her  at  all,  but  I  have — heard  of  her." 

"  From  the  Varignys,  I  suppose  ?  She  is  visiting  them. 
Her  family  have  not  been  living  in  New  Orleans  for  some 
time,  but  she  was  here  last  winter  and  made  a  great  sensa- 
tion by  her  beauty.  Adrien  Varigny  was  considered  to  be 
first  favorite  then,  but  this  season  he  has  rather  lost  his 
place  ;  and  Harvey,  who  is  desperately  in  love  with  her,  is 
making  the  best  running.  I'd  like  you  to  see  her.  She  is 
not  of  the  ordinary  Creole  type." 

"  I  chance  to  admire  that  type  very  much." 

"  You  can't  fail  to  admire  Diane  Prevost,  and  sh^  will 
be  a  sight  worth  seeing  in  royal  robes  to-night.  I  wonder" 
(with  a  laugh)  "  what  Burnham  will  think  of  her  ?" 

"  And  who  is  Burnham  ?" 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  271 

"  A  young  cad  whose  father  has  made  a  great  deal  of 
money,  and  who  has  therefore  crept  into  the  outskirts  of 
good  society.  The  story  runs  that,  seeing  Miss  Prevost 
last  winter,  he  was  deeply  smitten  ;  and,  being  unable  to 
approach  her  in  any  other  manner,  induced  his  father — 
who  held  a  mortgage  on  Madame  Prevost's  estate — to  offer 
him  as  a  suitor,  threatening  to  close  the  mortgage  at  once 
if  he  was  refused.  Details  of  the  result  are  not  clearly 
known.  However,  it  is  said  that  Miss  Prevost  took  into 
consideration  sacrificing  herself,  but  that  somebody  or 
something  came  to  her  rescue.  At  all  events,  the  debt  was 
paid  in  money,  not  in  flesh  and  blood  ;  and  Miss  Prevost 
is  here  in  more  brilliant  beauty  than  ever,  to  be  the  Queen 
of  the  Carnival." 

"  I  have  heard  a  story  something  like  that  before — in  a 
dream  perhaps,"  said  Atherton  quietly.  "  In  my  story 
the  girl's  brother  obtained  her  ransom  by  a  rather  wild  ad- 
venture/' 

"  It  was  not  this  story"  (very  positively)  ;  "for  there 
is  no  brother  in  the  case.  Miss  Prevost  has  none." 

"  Then,  of  course,  she  is  not  the  heroine  of  my  story. 
There  is  a  sufficient  similarity,  however,  to  induce  me  to 
take  the  trouble  of  seeing  her  ;  so  you  may  count  on  me 
for  Kex's  ball  to-night." 


CHAPTEK  V. 

REX'S  ball  was  indeed  a  very  magnificent  affair  ;  and 
Rex  himself,  an  extremely  good-looking  young  man,  was  a 
very  imposing  figure,  in  his  royal  attire.  But  he  and  his 
brilliant  court  were  alike  thrown  into  the  shade  by  the 


272  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

dazzling  beauty  of  the  stately  presence  which  stood  beside 
him  as  queen.  Dress,  which  is  becoming  to  every  one,  was 
becoming  to  Diane  in  superlative  degree  ;  and  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  a  lovelier  sovereign  ever  smiled  upon  the  mimic  pomp 
of  a  Carnival  or  the  real  splendor  of  a  court.  The  costume 
which  she  wore  was  carefully  copied  from  the  period  which 
her  appearance  strikingly  suggested,  and  she  seemed  to  have 
stepped  direct  from  Versailles  in  the  days  of  the  Grande 
Monarque,  or  from  the  frame  of  some  ancient  portrait 
hanging  upon  its  walls.  Her  robe  of  shining  white-and- 
gold  brocade,  trimmed  with  priceless  lace — the  chief  treas- 
ure which  adverse  fortune  had  spared  to  Madame  de  Mar- 
sillac — was  fashioned  in  the  mode  of  that  by-gone  court. 
About  the  rounded  whiteness  of  her  fair  neck  was  clasped  a 
rivibre  of  diamonds  splendid  enough  for  a  queen  ;  while 
above  the  luxuriant  masses  of  her  sunny  hair — coifed  high, 
but  unpowdered — rested  a  crown  of  diamond  stars,  which 
flashed  with  every  motion  of  the  graceful  head. 

"  Isn't  she  superb  ?"  said  Langdon  in  a  tone  of  intense 
admiration,  as  Atherton  and  himself  came  in  view  of  this 
radiant  figure.  "  There's  not  a  woman  to  compare  to  her 
here  to-night,  and  indeed  one  would  have  to  go  far  to  find 
one.  Did  you  ever  see  a  more  striking  resemblance  to 
many  of  the  famous  court  beauties  of  the  past  ?" 

"I  never  did,"  Atherton  answered  very  sincerely. 
"  The  type  is  wonderfully  preserved.  Some  of  those  beau- 
ties must  have  been  among  her  immediate  ancestors." 
And  as  he  spoke  he  recalled  the  miniature  of  Yvonne 
d'Aulnay,  at  which  he  had  looked  in  the  brilliant  tropical 
moonlight,  and  of  which  a  well-remembered  voice  had 
cried,  "  Diane  looks  like  it !" 

And  Diane  did  look  like  it — marvellously,  wonderfully 
like  it.  In  her  present  attire  she  might  have  been  thought 


THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY.    .  273 

its  original ;  and  the  last  doubt  which  Atherton  had  enter- 
tained of  her  being  the  identical  Diane  of  whom  he  had 
heard  so  much  was  finally  and  altogether  dissipated. 

"  Well,"  Langdon  remarked,  "  I  must  go  and  offer  her 
my  homage.  You  will  come  and  be  introduced  ?' ' 

Atherton  assenting,  they  made  their  way  to  the  da'is 
where  the  mimic  court  was  assembled.  Before  the  splen- 
did young  figure  which  was  its  centre,  Langdon  made  his 
obeisance  ;  and  then,  drawing  aside,  said  : 

"  Your  Majesty  will  graciously  allow  me  to  present  to 
you  my  cousin,  Mr.  Atherton." 

Ah  !  Diane,  Diane,  was  it  not  in  your  power  to  re- 
strain that  start,  which  had  in  it  something  of  terror,  and 
that  glance  of  dismay  as  the  tall  figure  of  the  stranger 
bowed  before  you  ?  Happily  no  one  noticed  either  except 
the  stranger  himself.  But  he  must  have  had  eyes  in  the 
top  of  the  blond  head  which  he  bent  so  low  ;  for  even  be- 
fore he  raised  it  he  knew  what  he  should  see  :  he  knew 
that  he  should  encounter  just  that  look  in  the  lovely, 
startled  eyes  which  met  his  own — a  look  at  once  apprehen- 
sive and  unconsciously  appealing. 

The  appeal  touched  him  ;  for  he  perceived  now  what  a 
very  charming  as  well  as  beautiful  face  it  was  into  which 
he  looked — a  face  so  sweet  that  to  see  it  was  to  be  fasci- 
nated by  it.  And  he  remembered  that  this,  too,  had  been 
said  to  him  :  "  Everybody  loves  Diane.  Young  and  old, 
rich  and  poor,  white  and  black — she  fascinates  every  one. " 
He  remembered  how  he  had  listened  with  a  smile,  and  now 
he  felt  and  saw  that  it  was  true.  No  one  could  resist  the 
charm  of  this  lovely  countenance,  on  which  was  plainly  to 
be  read  the  stamp  of  a  nature  gentle  and  guileless  as  that 
of  a  child.  In  the  deception  which  had  been  practised 
upon  him  he  could  not  believe  that  she  had  any  part,  or  at 


274  THE    MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

least  any  blame.  But  she  evidently  knew  enough  of  it  to 
fear  some  revelation  from  him  ;  and,  anxious  to  relieve  her 
apprehension,  he  spoke  at  once  : 

"  Your  Majesty  is  kind  enough,  I  am  told,  to  welcome 
strangers  to  the  court  of  your  Carnival.  You  will  allow 
me,  then,  as  a  stranger,  to  express  my  delight  at  all  that  I 
have  witnessed  ;  and  to  hope  that  I  may  have  the  honor  to 
— shall  I  be  mediaeval  enough  to  say — '  tread  a  measure  ' 
with  your  Majesty  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  so  that 
I  may  the  more  happily  enshrine  the  occasion  in  my 
memory." 

He  purposely  made  his  speech  long,  in  order  to  give  her 
time  to  recover  herself  ;  and  fanciful,  in  order  to  reassure 
her.  Meanwhile  his  eyes  were  fastened  on  her,  so  that  he 
saw  the  quick  rise  and  fall  of  the  diamonds  on  her  bosom — 
those  diamonds,  in  their  antique  setting,  which  he  had  held 
in  his  hand  in  the  garden  of  Millefleurs,  and  had  fancied 
clasped  around  just  such  a  white  young  throat  as  that 
which  they  now  encircled.  In  answer  to  his  last  words, 
she  murmured  something  inaudible  and  held  out  her  ball- 
card.  He  glanced  over  the  list ;  and  seeing  only  one  num- 
ber vacant,  placed  his  initials  against  it.  Then,  returning 
the  bit  of  pasteboard  with  a  bow  of  thanks,  he  was  forced 
to  draw  aside  to  make  room  for  others. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  came,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  walked 
away.  "  I  fear  I  have  spoiled  this  girl's  pleasure  in  the 
evening.  She  is  no  actress — that's  certain  ;  for  what  a 
look  of  recognition  and  apprehension  there  was  in  her  eyes 
when  she  saw  me  !  I  would  like  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
reassure  her — to  let  her  know  she  has  nothing  to  dread  from 
me.  But  that  is  impossible,  surrounded  as  she  is  at  pres- 
ent. I  must  wait  until  our  dance  is  due,  and  I  only  hope 
she  may  be  able  to  put  me  out  of  her  mind  until  she  sees 


THE   MAtf   OF  THE   FAMILY.  275 

me  again.  Why  did  I  ever  come  here  and  mix  myself  up 
with  these  people  ?  What  possible  concern  was  it  of  mine 
who  Henri  de  Marsillac  might  be,  or  what  right  he  had  to 
the  treasure  he  carried  off  ?  I  am  rightly  served  for  my 
quixotry,  both  on  the  island  and  here,  by  the  dismay  and 
fear  with  which  that  girl  regarded  me." 

Pricking  himself  with  the  memory  of  her  look,  he  found 
little  interest  in  the  scene  around  him,  however  well  merit- 
ing the  epithets  with  which  the  reporters  of  the  press  would 
characterize  it  in  the  morning  papers.  A  floor  of  glass, 
perfect  music,  lavish  decoration,  beautiful  faces  and  beau- 
tiful toilettes— each  and  all  had  long  since  ceased  to  have 
any  intoxicating  effect  upon  him,  even  if  his  mind  had  not 
been  occupied  with  other  thoughts.  Hence  the  young 
ladies  to  whom  he  was  introduced  found  him  disappoint- 
ing ;  and,  notwithstanding  the  aroma  of  millions  which 
surrounded  him,  were  not  sorry  when  his  perfunctory  dances 
with  them  were  over  and  they  could  turn  to  more  agree- 
able, if  less  heavily  gilded,  partners.  And,  ungallant  as 
the  admission  writes  him  down,  there  is  no  doubt  the  relief 
was  mutual  ;  since  the  only  event  of  the  evening  to  which 
he  looked  forward  with  the  least  interest  was  his  promised 
dance  with  Diane. 

The  time  for  this  seemed  to  him  very  long  in  arriving  ; 
and  it  is  possible  that  his  interest  might  have  waned  before 
it  did  arrive  had  it  not  been  stimulated  now  and  then  by  a 
vision  of  Diane,  like  some  princess  out  of  a  fairy  tale  pre- 
siding over  the  revels  of  the  gay  throng.  The  very  gleam 
of  her  diamonds  had  a  fascination  for  him,  linked  as  they 
were  with  the  memory  of  the  distant,  blood-stained  island 
where  they  had  been  found,  and  the  mystery  of  the  boy 
who  had  vanished  out  of  his  life.  At  length,  as  all  things 
come  to  him  who  has  patience  to  wait  for  them,  he  found 


276  THE  MAN   OF  THE  FAMILY. 

himself  again  bowing  before  her,  saying  deferentially, 
"  This,  I  believe,  is  our  dance,  if  your  Majesty  is  good 
enough  to  remember  it,"  and  walking  away  with  the  radi- 
ant figure  on  his  arm. 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  there  was  no  thought  of 
dancing  in  the  mind  of  either,  although  the  most  seductive 
strains  of  the  orchestra  were  ringing  through  the  ball-room. 
A  quick  glance  showed  Atherton  that  a  corridor  without 
was  almost  entirely  deserted  ;  and  that  a  small  apartment 
at  the  end  thereof — a  luxurious  retreat,  all  foliage  and  soft- 
toned  lamps  and  pleasantly  placed  seats,  carefully  arranged 
for  purposes  of  repose  and  flirtation — might  be  counted  on 
to  be  empty.  He  turned  and  looked  at  his  companion. 

"  Do  you  care  to  dance  ?"  he  asked,  speaking  with  defer- 
ence, but  dropping  the  tone  of  fanciful  homage  he  had  be- 
fore employed.  "  It  strikes  me  that  you  may  be  tired  and 
would  perhaps  prefer  to  sit  out  this  waltz.  If  so,  do  not 
hesitate  on  my  account.  I  am  by  no  means  fond  of  danc- 
ing, and  I  shall  be  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  improve  our 
acquaintance." 

"  I  am  a  little  tired,"  replied  Diane  tremulously.  "  It 
is  not  easy  to  dance  in  a  court  train.  I — think  I  would 
prefer  to  sit  out  this  dance,  if  we  can  find  a  quiet  place." 

"  That  is  easily  found,"  he  said,  and  led  her  down  the 
plant-decorated  corridor  to  the  room  at  its  farther  end. 

This  they  found  so  far  empty  that  only  one  pair  of  per- 
sons, engaged  manifestly  in  a  deep  flirtation,  occupied  a 
palm-shaded  corner.  These  gazed  disapprovingly  at  the 
intruders,  until,  finding  that  the  latter  had  no  intention  of 
retiring,  but,  on  the  contrary,  calmly  established  them- 
selves in  another  corner,  they  presently  rose  and  sauntered 
slowly  away  towards  the  ball-room.  It  was  when  this  event 
occurred  that  Diane,  breaking  in  on  some  rather  absent- 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  277 

minded  remarks  which  Atherton  was  making,  turned 
abruptly  towards  him. 

"  Mr.  Atherton,"  she  said  quickly,  "  I  cannot  endure 
for  you  to  believe — as  you  must  at  present  believe — that  we 
are  unmindful  of  all  that  we  owe  you.  Don't  think  us 
ignorant  of  it ;  don't  think  us  ungrateful  for  it  !  We  know 
and  feel  it  more  than  we  can  say.  It  is  with  all  of  us  writ- 
ten here" — she  laid  her  hand  on  her  heart — "  and  will 
never  be  forgotten." 

This  was  so  different  from  anything  that  Atherton  had 
anticipated — the  eager  impulsiveness  of  the  speech  and  the 
spontaneous  acknowledgment  of  indebtedness  took  him  so 
much  by  surprise — that  for  an  instant  he  did  not  reply. 
He  looked  steadily  at  the  beautiful  face,  all  alive  with  feel- 
ing, as  if  admiring  its  charm  or  sounding  its  sincerity  ;  and 
then  said  calmly  : 

"  May  I  ask,  Miss  Prevost,  to  whom  you  allude  as 
'  we '  ?" 

She  flushed  deeply  ;  but  her  eyes  still  met  his  own,  frank 
and  innocent  as  those  of  a  child. 

"I  allude,"  she  said,  "to  my  family — my  mother — all 
of  us.  We  know  that  but  for  your  assistance  the — venture 
which  saved  us  from  ruin  could  never  have  been  success- 
fully accomplished." 

He  bowed.  "  You  do  me  too  much  honor,"  he  answered. 
"  I  speak  with  sincerity  when  I  say  that  I  am  glad  to 
have  served  you — glad  that  so  much  was  true  of  the  story 
which  moved  me  :  that  there  was  ruin  to  be  averted  from 
one  like  yourself,  and  that  I  was  able  to  assist  in  avert- 
ing it." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  cried,  as  if  stung  by  his  words, 
"  that  you  doubt  any  of  the  story  which  was  told  you  ? 
You  do  injustice — great  injustice — to  one  who  does  not  de- 


278  THE   MAN   OP   THE   FAMILY. 

serve  it.  Believe  me,  the — person  who  told  it  you  would 
never  utter  an  untruth." 

"  Indeed  !  How,  then,  am  I  to  reconcile  the  statement 
of  this  person  that  his  name  was  De  Marsillac  and  that  he 
was  your  brother,  with  the  equally  positive  statement  of 
your  friends  that  there  is  no  De  Marsillac  living  and  that 
you  have  no  brother  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  for  an  instant  without  speaking,  the 
lovely  color  dying  out  of  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  seeming 
to  plead  against  the  sternness  of  his  words  ;  and  then  she 
said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  It  must  seem  very  strange  to  you,  and  I  cannot  ex- 
plain ;  but  both  statements  are  true." 

"  Both,  Miss  Prevost  ?    That  is  a  bold  assertion.'* 

"  It  is  a  bold  assertion — I  know  that ;  but  it  is  true. 
The  person  whom  you  know  has  a  perfect  right  to  call 
himself  De  Marsillac,  and  he  has  been  a  brother  in  every 
sense  to  me." 

"  I  think,"  he  said  coldly,  "  that  you  are  playing  with 
words.  But  it  does  not  matter.  It  is  no  concern  of  mine 
who  has  or  has  not  a  right  to  call  himself  De  Marsillac, 
and  far  less  whom  you  consider  '  a  brother  in  every  sense.' 
I  am  glad,  however,  that  you  have  opened  the  subject  of  a 
mystery  upon  which  I  had  no  intention  of  touching,  be- 
cause it  allows  me  to  explain  how  I  have  chanced  to  inter- 
fere with  it  at  all.  Briefly,  then  :  I  was  not  only  foolish 
enough  to  be  both  wounded  and  indignant  when  a  boy  for 
whom  I  had  conceived  a  liking  which  amounted  to 
attachment,  and  which  I  fancied  was  returned  on  his 
part " 

"  It  was,  it  was  !"  Diane  interrupted  earnestly. 
"  Threw  me  aside  and  vanished  with  a  melodramatic 
farewell  into  mystery  ;  but  I  began  to  ask  myself  if  I  had 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  279 

not  been  lending  my  aid  to  imposture  and  possibly  rob- 
bery." 

"  0  Mr.  Atherton  !" 

"  Do  the  words  shock  yon  ?  What  else  could  I  think  ? 
I  have  seen  much  of  the  world,  but  I  have  never  yet  found 
an  honest  man  who  veiled  in  mystery  transactions  in  which 
there  was  no  disgrace.  The  whole  thing  looked  to  me  very 
suspicious  ;  and,  besides  being  the  dupe  of  a  clever  impos- 
tor, I  had  no  mind  to  be  his  unconscious  accomplice.  As 
soon,  therefore,  as  I  received  a  letter  from  him — of  which, 
since  you  know  so  much,  you  may  have  heard — I  left  Santo 
Domingo  for  Cuba,  and  thence  came  here,  determined  to 
discover  if  such  a  person  as  Henri  de  Marsillac  really  exist- 
ed. I  was  speedily  assured  on  all  sides  that  he  did  not 
exist,  that  no  one  of  the  name  was  known  in  Louisiana, 
and  that  your  family  alone  represented  the  De  Marsillacs 
of  the  past.  It  seemed  then 'my  duty  to  inform  some  rep- 
resentative of  your  family  of  what  had  been  done  in  Hayti. 
To  my  inquiries  as  to  how  this  could  best  be  accomplished, 
I  was  informed  that  you  would  soon  be  in  New  Orleans, 
and  that  I  could  make  my  communication  to  you.  This  I 
was  resolved  to  do  until  I  heard  from  Mr.  Varigny  that 
you  did  not  desire  to  receive  any  communication  on  the 
subject.  Such  a  decision  relieved  me  at  once  from  all  re- 
sponsibility in  the  matter  ;  and  from  that  time  to  this  I 
have  had  no  intention  of  approaching  or  addressing  you  on 
the  subject.  But  to-night" — he  paused  a  moment — 
"  to-night  I  read,  or  thought  I  read,  in  your  eyes  an  ap- 
prehension. And  this  I  felt  bound  to  dissipate.  I  felt 
bound  to  tell  you  that  you  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
me." 

"  What  could  I  have  to  fear  from  you,  Mr.  Atherton?" 
asked  Diane  proudly,  her  crowned  head  lifted  high. 


280  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  That  you  alone  can  answer,"  replied  Atherton.  "  Be- 
lieve me  I  have  no  desire  to  press  any  inquiry  into  your 
mystery,  or  even  to  speculate  why  none  of  your  friends 
know  of  the  existence  of  the  man  who  found  the  treasure 
of  your  ancestor.  I  am  only  glad  to  see  that  a  part  at  least 
of  that  treasure  has  come  into  rightful  hands" — he  looked 
directly  at  the  diamonds — "and  1  have  no  intention  of 
taking  any  one  into  my  confidence  with  regard  to  what  I 
accidentally  witnessed  and  knew.  I  fancied  that  you 
might  like  to  have  this  assurance,  which  is  my  excuse  for 
touching  upon  the  subject." 

She  was  again  silent  for  a  moment  before  answering,  and 
then  she  said  : 

"  I  do  not  deny  that  I  am  glad  to  be  assured  that  you 
will  not  continue  to  make  inquiries  which  can  only  annoy 
and  embarrass  us.  Nobody  but  ourselves — nobody  at  all — 
was,  or  is,  concerned  in  the  finding  of  what  you  call  the 
treasure  of  our  ancestor.  Have  we  not,  then,  a  perfect 
right  to  maintain  any  mystery  that  we  like  regarding  it  ? 
That  mystery  conceals  nothing  wrong — so  much  I  assure 
you — and  has  but  one  drawback  of  which  I  know  :  its 
seeming  ingratitude  towards  yourself." 

"  That,"  he  said,  "is  of  no  importance  at  all.  In  any 
inquiry  which  I  have  made,  nothing  was  further  from  my 
mind  than  any  thought  of  myself." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  she  replied  earnestly  ;  "  but 
the  fact  remains  that  this  apparent  ingratitude  has  been  a 
matter  of  great  concern  to  all  of  us,  and  a  positive  grief  to 
one.  I  should  like  you  to  believe  this." 

"  Do  not  press  my  powers  of  credulity  too  far,  Miss  Pr6- 
vost,"  he  said  quietly.  "Since  you  assure  me  that  the 
mystery  hides  nothing  wrong,  it  is  difficult  for  a  plain  man 
to  see  a  reason  for  its  existence,  and  quite  impossible  for 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  281 

him  to  believe  in  regret  on  the  part  of  any  one  for  conduct 
which  had  no  necessity  to  justify  it." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  /"  cried  she  quickly.  "  I  did  not 
say  there  was  no  necessity  to  justify  it — for  there  is  such  a 
necessity.  I  only  said  that  it  concealed  nothing  wrong, 
and  that  we  have  a  right  to  preserve  a  mystery  if  we  like 
about  our  own  affairs." 

"  It  is  a  right  which  I,  for  one,  have  not  the  least  inten- 
tion of  challenging,"  he  replied  gravely.  "  If  you  will 
allow  me  to  repeat  my  apologies  for  having  ever  touched 
upon  the  subject  at  all,  and  my  earnest  assurance  that  I 
shall  not  do  so  again,  we  will  consider  it  closed.  There  is, 
however,  one  thing  which  I  should  like  you  to  do  for  me, 
in  acknowledgment,  let  us  say,  of  the  small  part  I  played 
in  recovering  the  jewels  which  at  present  adorn  you  ;  and 
that  is" — to  her  great  surprise  he  drew  a  ring  from  his  fin- 
ger— "  to  give  this,  as  I  suppose  you  are  able  to  do,  to  the 
person  who  called  himself  Henri  de  Marsillac  ;  saying  from 
me  that,  since  the  friendship  of  which  it  was  to  be  a  token 
has  evidently  no  longer  an  existence  on  his  side,  I,  on  my 
side,  must  decline  so  keep  his  trinket  longer. " 

Diane,  who  had  evidently  never  heard  of  the  ring  be- 
fore, stared  at  it  in  helpless  dismay. 

"  Did  he  give  you  that?"  she  asked.  "  Was  it  one  of 
the  jewels  you  found  ?" 

"  It  was  one  of  those  jewels.  To  gratify  him  I  consent- 
ed to  keep  it  as  a  remembrance  of  an  adventure  which  I 
now  wish  to  forget.  Will  you,  therefore,  oblige  me  so  far 
as  to  return  it  to  him  ?" 

"  I  cannot — I  dare  not  !"  said  Diane,  shrinking  back 
from  the  ring  which  he  offered.  "  0  Mr.  Atherton,  don't 
ask  it  of  me  !  It — you  don't  know — it  would  break  his 
heart." 


282  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

Atherton  smiled  incredulously.  "  Will  you  try  the 
effect?"  he  said  dryly.  "I  have  little  faith  in  broken 
hearts. ' ' 

"I  think  you  have  but  little  faith  in  anything,"  an- 
swered Diane  with  sudden  spirit.  "  You  certainly  have  not 
any  in  a — person  who  deserves  better  thoughts  from  you." 

"  How  has  he  proved  that  he  deserves  them  ?  By  deser- 
tion, by  silence,  by  utter  lack  of  faith  in  me— but  this  is 
folly  !  What"  (sternly)  "  have  I  to  do  with  your  mystery 
or  your  jewels  !  Take  the  ring,  Miss  Prevost.  It  is  yours, 
if  those  diamonds  which  you  wear  are  yours." 

"  It  is  not  mine,"  said  Diane,  putting  her  hands  behind 
her  ;  "  and  I  will  not  take  it.  If  the  person  who  gave  you 
that  had  given  you  all  the  jewels,  including  the  diamonds 
which  1  wear,  he  would  have  been  clearly  within  his  right ; 
since  but  for  him  and  but  for  you  they  would  never  per- 
haps have  seen  the  light,  and  certainly  never  have  been 
beheld  by  us.  Nothing  will  induce  me  to  take  that  ring 
from  you,  Mr.  Atherton  ;  so  it  is  useless  to  offer  it  to  me." 

"  You  refuse  absolutely  to  deliver  it— with  my  message  ?" 

"  I  refuse  absolutely." 

"  Then  you  will  force  me  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of 
this  Henri  de  Marsillac  for  myself." 

"  If  that  is  a  threat,"  said  Diane,  "  I  have  nothing  to 
reply  further  than  that  it  is  somewhat  out  of  keeping  with 
your  assurances  of  a  moment  or  two  ago." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said,  suddenly  recollecting  himself. 
"  It  is  out  of  keeping  with  them,  and  was  but  an  expres- 
sion of  irritation.  You  will  perhaps  acknowledge  that  I 
have  some  cause  to  be  irritated." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Diane,  with  unexpected  candor.  "  I  do 
acknowledge  it.  You  have  great  cause  to  be  irritated,  and 
to  judge  harshly  ;  but  if  you  would  believe " 


THE    MA1ST    OF   THE   FAMILY.  283 

"  You  have  already  perceived  that  I  am  a  person  of  little 
faith,  Miss  Prevost,"  he  interposed.  "  Don't,  therefore, 
try  that  faith  by  asking  me  to  believe  impossible  things. 
And,  to  prevent  further  rudeness  on  my  part,  here,  I  think, 
comes  some  one  in  search  of  you.  It  will  not  do  for  the 
queen  of  the  evening  to  disappear,  even  for  a  short  time." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IT  was  Varigny  who  entered,  and  whose  glance  around 
the  room  showed  that  he  came  in  search  of  some  one. 
When  he  caught  sight  of  Diane,  it  was  at  once  apparent  of 
whom  he  was  in  search  ;  and  when  he  saw  Atherton,  it  was 
as  plainly  perceptible  that  he  had  not  known  who  her  com- 
panion would  prove  to  be.  He  looked  surprised,  and 
paused  abruptly.  An  instinct  told  him  that  these  two  peo- 
ple— unable  at  first  to  banish  all  traces  of  earnestness  from 
their  faces — had  not  been  talking  ball-room  platitudes  ; 
and  mingled  with  the  sense  of  intrusion  which  every  one, 
save  the  most  hopelessly  obtuse,  feels  under  such  circum- 
stances, was  a  pang  of  jealousy  so  keen  that  it  made  him 
for  an  instant  forget  good  manners.  Only  for  an  instant, 
however.  His  pause  was  only  momentary,  and  he  then 
came  forward  with  quite  perfect  courtesy. 

"  I  was  told  that  I  might  find  you  here/'  he  said,  ad- 
dressing Diane  ;  "and,  since  this  is  our  dance,  you  will 
pardon  me  for  seeking  you.  I  hope  that  I  do  not  inter- 
rupt  " 

"  Nothing  of  more  importance  than  a  conversation  in 
which  everything  has  been  said  that  there  is  the  least  neces- 
sity to  say,"  answered  Diane,  rising.  "I  have  thanked 


284  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

Mr.  Atherton  for  his  kind  intentions  towards  us — at  least, 
if  I  have  not  thanked  you  before,  let  me  do  so  now,"  she 
added,  iurning  to  that  gentleman.  "  Believe  that  we 
deeply  appreciate  all  your  kindness." 

Perhaps  it  was  her  queenly  appearance  which  lent  a 
queenly  grace  to  these  words  ;  but  the  smile  with  which 
she  uttered  them  wa?  that  smile  of  Diane's  which  all  her 
life  had  laid  hearts  low  before  her,  and  the  memory  of  its 
sweetness  remained  with  Atherton  like  a  perfume  after  she 
had  taken  Varigny's  arm  and  moved  away. 

But  it  was  natural  that  its  sweetness  seemed  less  irresisti- 
ble  to  the  man  to  whom  it  was  not  addressed.  Varigny 
had  indeed  often  before  seen  such  smiles  bestowed  by  Diane 
upon  others  ;  but  he  had  never  before  been  conscious  of 
the  anger  which  now  burned  within  him  like  a  flame. 
"  All  your  kindness  !"  What  did  that  mean  ?  What  was 
meant  to  be  understood  under  that  comprehensive  emphasis  ? 
What  part  had  Atherton  played  in  the  doings  of  the  myste- 
rious De  Marsillac  which  resulted  in  the  payment  of  Ma- 
dame Prevost's  debt?  For  the  first  time  a  flash  of  the 
jealous  suspicion  with  which  he  regarded  the  unknown  man 
was  directed  towards  Atherton  ;  for  the  first  time  he  re- 
membered the  wealth  of  the  latter  and  his  reticence  con- 
cerning all  the  details  of  his  acquaintance  with  De  Marsil- 
lac. These  suspicions  necessarily  took  no  definite  form  ; 
but  they  were  enough  to  feed  the  fire  within  him,  and  to 
provoke  resentment  more  from  the  very  fact  of  their  vague- 
ness, which  was  in  itself  an  offence  ;  for  why  should  this 
stranger  be  admitted  to  Diane's  confidence  in  a  matter 
from  which  her  oldest  friends  were  excluded  ? 

Occupied  with  these  thoughts,  he  hardly  knew  how  silent 
he  was  as  they  walked  down  the  corridor  towards  the  ball- 
room ;  and  had  nearly  reached  the  door  of  this  apartment 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  285 

when  he  suddenly  felt  how  impossible  it  was  to  enter  and 
join  the  flying  throng  of  dancers,  while  his  mind  was  so 
disturbed  and  his  heart  so  sore. 

"  You  have  sat  out  one  dance,"  he  said  abruptly,  turn- 
ing to  Diane.  "  Will  you  give  a  few  minutes  from  another 
to  me  ?  I  should  like,  if  I  may  be  permitted,  to  ask  you  a 
question. ' ' 

"  1  am  not  at  all  anxious  to  dance,"  Diane  replied  quiet- 
ly. "  As  I  told  Mr.  Atherton,  my  train  very  much  inter- 
feres with  my  pleasure  in  dancing.  It  is  one  of  the  penal- 
ties of  royal  state." 

"  Then  we  will  take  another  turn,"  said  Varigny,  facing 
around  as  he  spoke  to  walk  again  down  the  length  of  the 
corridor.  The  waves  of  music  rising  and  falling  in  the  ball- 
room had,  like  a  spell  of  enchantment,  summoned  all  but  a 
few  couples  lingering  here  and  there  in  shaded  recesses  ; 
and  the  long  vista  of  the  gallery,  with  its  palm-lined  walls, 
its  glistening  floor,  along  which  stretched  a  broad  strip  of 
crimson  carpet,  and  its  fanciful  lamps,  was  at  this  moment 
entirely  deserted. 

Diane  felt  her  heart  beating  quickly  as  they  turned. 
What  did  Adrien  wish  to  say  ?  Would  he  explain  the 
change  that  had  come  over  him  ?  She  still  felt  a  little  re- 
sentful of  this  change,  yet  was  conscious  that  only  a  few 
words  were  necessary  to  sweep  away  all  resentment  in  a 
flood  of  tender  and  exquisite  emotion.  After  a  moment's 
pause  Adrien  spoke — very  stiffly. 

"  The  question  which  I  wish  to  ask,"  he  said,  "  is  briefly 
this  :  Do  you  think  it  wise  to  admit  to  your  confidence  an 
entire  stranger,  at  the  same  time  that  you  refuse  to  explain 
to  your  friends  a  mystery  which  this  stranger  has,  by  his 
inquiries,  made  notorious  ?' ' 

The  tone  in  which  this  question  was  uttered,  even  more 


286  THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

than  the  words  themselves,  so  much  astonished  Diane  that 
for  a  moment  she  was  unable  to  reply.  It  was  absolutely 
her  first  intimation,  not  only  that  Varigny  had  given  a 
thought  to  the  subject  of  which  Octave  alone  had  spoken 
to  her,  but  that  any  injurious  misconception  might  arise  in 
the  mind  of  any  one  from  the  mystery  to  which  he  allud- 
ed. He  saw  her  surprise  ;  and,  since  she  did  not  reply, 
went  on  in  a  gentler  tone  : 

"  Is  it  possible  you  have  not  considered  this  ?  Is  it  pos- 
sible you  have  not  reflected  that  both  the  mystery  and  the 
confidence  are  likely  to  afford  food  for  such  gossip  as — as  1 
cannot  bear  that  you  should  incur  ?" 

"  No, "said  Diane,  startled  by  the  tone  of  the  last  words, 
"  I  have  not  thought  of  it.  It  has  not  occurred  to  me  that 
a  matter  which  concerns  only  ourselves — I  mean  my  own 
family — can  be  of  interest  to  others.  We  have  certainly  a 
right  to  preserve  reticence  about  our  own  affairs." 

"  A  right — yes.  No  one  questions  that.  But  do  you 
know  the  world  so  little  as  to  imagine  that  it  gossips  only 
of  matters  into  which  it  has  a  right  to  inquire  ?  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  in  the  things  which  do  not  concern  it  ihat  it 
takes  the  deepest  interest,  and  to  which  it  gives  its  worst 
interpretations. ' ' 

"  But  what  interpretation  could  possibly  be  given  to  that 
of  which  you  speak  ?"  she  asked,  pausing  to  regard  him 
with  astonished  eyes. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently. 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?"  he  answered.  "  But  you  may  sure- 
ly see  for  yourself  what  a  morsel  it  is  for  gossip  to  roll  upon 
its  tongue.  This  man  Atherton  comes  here  a  stranger  (no 
one  knowing  anything  of  him  except  his  reputation  for 
wealth),  and  inquires  on  all  sides  for  a  non-existent  person 
— a  De  Marsillac,  of  Louisiana,  whom  he  says  that  he  met. 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  287 

He  talks  of  some  mysterious  transaction  in  which  this  per- 
son has  been  engaged,  which  is  connected  with  the  pay- 
ment of  your  mother's  indebtedness,  and  he  expresses  a  de- 
sire to  see  you  as  soon  as  you  arrive,  to  give  information  on 
some  point  deeply  affecting  your  interest ' ' 

"  I  have  told  him,"  interposed  Diane,  "  that  his  infor- 
mation is  unnecessary  ;  that  we  are  perfectly  aware  of  every- 
thing which  he  wished  to  tell  ;  and  that  we  endorse  all  the 
actions  and  statements  of  the — person  called  De  Marsillac 
whom  he  met." 

"And  do  you  think  that  this  will  satisfy  the  world  ? 
Do  you  really  imagine  that  it  is  possible  to  maintain  secrecy 
on  such  a  point  without  giving  rise  to  gossip  which  your 
friends  can  neither  answer  nor  resent  ?  Even  if  you  have 
not  given  Mr.  Atherton  your  full  confidence,  he  certainly 
knows  far  more  than  any  of  us  of  this  matter,  in  which 
figure  an  unknown  man  and  a  large  sum  of  money." 

Diane's  astonishment  now  began  to  give  way  to  indigna- 
tion. She  could  hardly  believe  that  this  was  Adrien 
Varigny  speaking  to  her  so  coldly,  almost  sternly.  "  An 
unknown  man  and  a  large  sum  of  money  !"  Even  more 
offensive  than  the  words  was  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  uttered.  She  had  too  little  knowledge  of  the  world 
to  be  aware  how  far  he  was  in  the  right,  and  the  anger 
which  it  was  so  difficult  to  rouse  in  her  began  to  stir. 

"  Do  I  understand,"  she  said,  meeting  his  glance  with  a 
fire  in  her  own  which  he  had  never  seen  before,  "  that  you 
mean  to  imply  that  there  is  anything  in  our  reticence 
on  these  points  which  the  world  would  have  a  right  to 
censure  ?" 

"  I  think,"  he  answered,  "  that  such  reticence  is  unwise, 
and  certainly  uncalled  for,  if  there  is  not  anything  in  the 
facts  which  would  demand  censure." 


2<SX  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  You  are  kind  enough  to  qualify  your  last  words  with 
an  '  if  /  "  said  she  proudly.  "It  seems  that  it  is  rather 
from  our  friends  than  from  the  world  that  we  have  to  ex- 
pect harsh  judgment  if  we  do  not  satisfy  their  curiosity." 

Varigny  started  as  if  he  had  been  stung.  Indeed  had  a 
humming-bird  suddenly  developed  the  stinging  power  of  a 
wasp,  he  could  not  have  been  more  astonished  than  by  these 
words  from  Diane. 

"Is  it  in  this  manner  that  you  interpret  what  I  have 
said  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest  surprise  rather 
than  of  offence.  "  Then,  indeed,  I  must  apologize  for 
having  spoken  at  all.  Believe  me  I  have  no  curiosity  on 
the  subject  of  your  mystery — none.  I  have  felt  an  interest 
and  concern  at  seeing  you  put  yourself  in  a  false  position, 
which  I  fancied  our  old  friendship  warranted.  But  I  shall 
not  need  to  be  informed  of  my  mistake  again.  Let  me 
take  you  back  to  the  ball-room." 

"  One  moment,"  said  Diane,  who  felt  as  if  something 
choked  her.  ' '  Since  you  are  evidently  right  in  saying  that 
the  world,  including  one's  friends,  has  only  unjust  suspi- 
cion and  censorious  comment  for  whatever  it  does  not  fully 
understand,  I  must  tell  you,  for  the  sake  of  others  if  not 
for  my  own,  that  in  what  you  are  pleased  to  call  our  mys- 
tery there  is  no  wrong  involved  ;  nor  anything  that  con- 
cerns any  one  but  ourselves." 

"  There  you  are  mistaken,"  he  replied  impulsively, 
speaking  as  he  had  not  the  instant  before  had  the  remotest 
intention  of  doing.  "  "Whatever  concerns  you  concerns 
me,  Diane.  You  know  that  I  love  you  ;  and,  knowing 
this,  you  might  undersand  how  bitter  it  is  to  me  that  you 
should  withhold  your  confidence  from  me,  and  that  a  stran- 
ger should  know  more  of  what  affects  your  interest  than 
I  do." 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  289 

How  often  it  occurs  that  the  good  gift  which  would  fill 
our  hearts  with  delight  and  gratitude  did  it  come  at  the 
moment  when  we  are  longing  for  it,  is  delayed  by  fate,  or 
by  the  fault  or  infirmity  of  others,  until  that  moment  is 
past,  and  another  has  come  in  which  it  loses  half — nay, 
sometimes  all — its  sweetness  and  value  !  Such  was  the 
case  now  with  Diane.  Had  these  words  been  spoken  by 
Varigny  even  so  short  a  time  before  as  when  they  turned 
from  the  ball-room  door,  they  would  have  filled  her  with 
happiness  ;  but  now,  angered,  indignant,  resentful  of  un- 
just censure  and  suspicion,  she  could  only  feel  that  they 
made  the  attitude  of  the  speaker  more  unpardonable.  Her 
pulses  were  throbbing  with  excitement  ;  a  conflict  of  feel- 
ing, in  which  it  was  impossible  to  say  what  emotion  was 
strongest,  possessed  her,  as  she  lifted  her  proud  young  head 
like  the  queen  she  looked. 

"  And  do  you  call  that  a  reason  for  what  you  have  said 
to  me  ?"  she  asked  in  a  low,  vibrant  tone.  "  It  seems  to 
me  that  it  rather  makes  it  worse.  If  you — loved  me,  you 
would  have  faith  in  me.  You  would  not,  you  could  not, 
think  of  suspecting  anything  wrong  in  a  mere  reticence 
about  our  own  affairs.  I  do  not  believe  in  a  love  which 
has  no  trust." 

"  In  other  words,  you  know  nothing  of  love,"  answered 
Varigny.  "  If  you  did,  you  would  understand  that  it  de- 
mands as  well  as  gives  trust.  And  do  you  trust  me  ?  Will 
you  tell  me  who  this  unknown  man  is,  and  how  he  is  so 
closely  connected  with  you  that  you  answer  for  his  acts  as 
if  they  were  your  own  ?" 

"  Will  I  tell  you— when  you  ask  me  in  such  a  tone  as 
this  ?  No.  I  should  despise  myself  if  I  did." 

"  Then  that  is  enough.  I  am  answered.  If  I  am  not 
worthy  of  your  confidence,  I  am  not  worthy  of  anything  else. " 


290  THE   MAJT   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  And  if  I  am  not  worthy  of  faith,  I  am  worthy  of 
nothing." 

They  had  ceased  walking  ;  Diane  had  dropped  his  arm, 
and  they  stood  facing  each  other  like  two  duellists,  forget- 
ful of  their  surroundings  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
when  suddenly,  with  a  loud,  final  clash,  the  music  ceased, 
and  an  immediate  rush  from  the  ball-room  of  dancers, 
eager  for  the  cooler  air  of  the  corridor,  ensued.  Varigny 
instantly  offered  his  arm  again. 

"I  think,"  he  observed  in  his  usual  manner,  "that 
this  is  all  we  have  to  say.  Forgive  me  for  detaining  you 
so  long.  And,  now  that  our  dance  is  over,  allow  me  to 
take  you  back  to  your  court." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

said  Octave,  "what  is  the  reason  that 
Diane  is  talking  of  going  home  at  once,  when  she  came 
with  the  intention  of  spending  several  weeks  here  ?' ' 

Adrien,  whom  she  had  arrested  on  his  way  out  of  the 
house,  stood  drawing  on  his  gloves  and  did  not  look  at  her. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?"  he  answered.  "  Mardi  Gras  is 
over,  and  Miss  Prevost  probably  finds  herself  dull.  The 
ashes  received  in  church  this  morning  have  seemed  to  lie 
rather  heavily  on  the  spirits  of  everybody  to-day  ;  although, 
for  my  part,  I  consider  them  very  appropriate.  Memento 
homo  quia  pulvis  es,  et  in  pulverem  reverteris  ;  only  it  is 
not  necessary  to  wait  until  one  is  dust  one's  self  to  see  other 
things  resolved  into  ashes." 

"  A  very  good  frame  of  mind  for  Mercredi  des  Cendres," 
said  Octave,  regarding  him  keenly  ;  "  but  so  unusual  on 


THE   MAN    OF  THE    FAMILY.  291 

your  part  as  to  rouse  suspicion.  You  don't  usually  find 
the  ashes  so  appropriate  to  the  end  of  the  Carnival.  Some- 
thing has  happened.  Come  in  here  and  tell  me  about  it." 

Despite  a  little  resistance  on  his  part,  she  drew  him  into 
the  small  sitting-room  at  the  end  of  the  suite  of  reception- 
rooms,  which  was  her  favorite  retreat ;  and  there  forced 
him  into  a  chair. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  sitting  down  opposite  him,  "  tell  me 
what  occurred  between  Diane  and  yourself  last  night.  Of 
course  I  knew  as  soon  as  I  saw  your  face  and  hers  that 
something  had  occurred." 

"  I  was  really  not  aware  that  I  had  such  a  tell-tale  coun- 
tenance," he  replied,  flushing  slightly.  "  But  you  are 
right.  Something  did  occur  which  there  is  no  reason  to 
conceal.  Miss  Prevost  was  kind  enough  to  tell  me  that  she 
had  no  belief  in  my  love  and  no  confidence  in  myself." 

"  Adrien  !  It  is  impossible  I  Diane  could  never  have 
said  that.  You  must  have  misunderstood  her." 

"  If  you  know  more  of  the  matter  than  I  do,  there  is  no 
need  to  question  me, "  he  answered  irritably.  ' '  I  am  tell- 
ing you — in  substance — exactly  what  was  said." 

"  But  how  did  such  a  thing  come  to  be  said  ?  What 
drew  it  out  ?  Tell  me"  (impatiently)  ;  "for  I  am  sure 
you  have  been  stupid." 

"  If  I  was  stupid,  it  was  not  for  lack  of  sufficient  explicit- 
ness  on  her  part.  To  begin  at  the  beginning,  I  found  her 
with  Atherton  when  I  went  to  claim  a  dance  for  which  she 
was  engaged  to  me  ;  and  they  had  the  air  of  people  who 
were  engrossed  in  very  important  conversation.  When  I 
apologized  for  interrupting  them,  she  said  that  they  had 
finished  what  it  was  *  necessary '  they  should  say  ;  and  then 
turning  to  Atherton,  she  thanked  him  with  emphasis  for 
all  his  kindness,  before  moving  away  with  me." 


292  THE   MAN   OP   THE    FAMILY. 

"  Well  ?" — as  he  paused  at  this  point. 

"  Well,  you  may  imagine  that  this  brought  to  my  mind 
very  forcibly  the  singular  mystery  which  seems  to  connect 
Atherton  and  the  Prevosts  with  some  unknown  person 
whose  very  existence  Diane  declines  to  explain.  It  has 
seemed  to  me  an  inexplicable  mystery  ever  since  I  first 
heard  of  it — more  inexplicable  and  more  serious  from  its 
connection  with  money — and  her  tone  towards  this  man, 
whom  she  had  just  met  for  the  first  time,  absolutely  con- 
founded me.  I  found  it  impossible  to  refrain  from  speak- 
ing— from  telling  her  that  she  was  making  a  mistake,  which 
the  world  would  hold  very  serious,  in  admitting  this  stran- 
ger to  a  confidence  which  she  withheld  from  her  oldest 
friends.  To  this  she  replied  that  they  (her  family)  had  a 
right  to  preserve  what  degree  of  reticence  they  chose  with 
regard  to  their  private  affairs  ;  and  added  that  it  appeared 
to  be  from  their  friends,  rather  than  from  the  world,  that 
they  had  to  expect  harsh  judgment  if  they  failed  to  satisfy 
their  (our)  curiosity." 

"  0  Adrien  !  that  does  not  sound  like  Diane." 

"  Nothing  that  she  said  sounded  like  Diane.  Some  in- 
fluence seems  to  have  changed  her  utterly.  I  am  sorry  to 
say  that  when  she  declared  that  their  mystery  concerned  no 
one  but  themselves,  I  was  foolish  enough  to  lose  my  head 
and  reply  that  it  concerned  me,  since  I  loved  her." 

"  And  then  ?" 

"  Then  she  said  that  she  had  no  belief  in  a  love  which 
showed  no  trust.  I  replied  that  love  demanded  as  well  as 
gave  trust,  and  that  if  she  cared  for  me  she  would  not 
withhold  her  confidence  regarding  this  mysterious  man  who 
seemed  so  nearly  connected  with  her  family  affairs.  In 
short,  Octave,  it  was  a  deadlock.  She  demanded  a  blind 
faith  in  proof  of  my  love,  and  I  asked  confidence  as  a  proof 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  293 

of  hers.     Neither  of  us  received  what  we  asked,  and  so — 
voild  tout !" 

( '  But  it  is  impossible  that  this  can  be  the  end.  You 
were  both  angry — I  am  sure  of  it— you  both  asked  too 
much.  But  especially  you  were  in  the  wrong.  Why  did 
you  tell  Diane  in  such  a  manner  that  you  loved  her  ? 
Why  did  you  make  your  love  a  claim  to  force  her  confi- 
dence ?  Of  course  she  resented  your  lack  of  trust.  Any 
woman  would  have  done  so.  And  yet  you  know  that  this 
mystery  conceals  nothing  wrong." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  How  can  I  possibly 
know  ^it  ?  I  only  know  that  people,  unless  they  are  abso- 
lute idiots,  do  not  make  mysteries  of  things  which  there  is 
no  reason  to  conceal.  But,  right  or  wrong,  the  fact  re- 
mains that  Diane  does  not  love  me,  or  she  would  give  me 
her  confidence." 

"  If  you  had  asked  for  it  properly,  I  am  sure  that  she 
would  have  given  it." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  rose  from  his  seat. 

"  I  don't  know  what  would  be  your  idea  of  asking  prop- 
erly," he  said  ;  "  but  of  this  I  am  sure,  that  I  shall  never 
ask  in  any  manner  again.  Miss  Prevost  can  hereafter  have 
as  many  mysteries  as  she  likes,  and  confide  in  whom  she 
likes,  without  the  least  interference  from  me.  And  if  she 
is  intending  to  go  away  in  order  to  avoid  me,  pray  let  her 
know  that  such  a  step  is  unnecessary,  since  I  am  on  the 
point  of  leaving  the  city  myself.  There  are  matters  requir- 
ing attention  on  the  plantation,  and  I  shall  go  there  to. 
morrow." 

"  0  Adrien,  you  will  not  be  so  foolish  !" 

But  Adrien  was  already  gone  beyond  the  reach  of  remon- 
strance. 

Octave  remained  silent  and  motionless  for  several  min- 


294  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

utes  after  his  departure,  until  at  last  her  meditation  bore 
fruit  in  two  words.  "  Quelle  b&ise  /"  she  murmured  ;  and 
was  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  room  when  the  door  opened 
and  Diane  entered. 

But  what  a  different  Diane  from  the  brilliant  queen  of 
last  night's  ball  !  She  looked  pale  ;  her  eyes  were  heavy, 
her  movements  languid  ;  and  as  she  sat  down  on  a  low 
couch  and  sank  back  on  the  cushions  with  which  it  was 
piled,  there  was  little  to  remind  one  of  the  Psyche-like 
maiden  who  seemed  usually  to  brighten  the  world  by  mere- 
ly condescending  to  exist  in  it. 

Octave  looked  at  her  keenly  as  she  resumed  her  own  seat. 

"  You  are  quite  a  picture  of  '  After  the  Carnival,' 
Diane,"  she  remarked.  "  I  never  saw  you  used  up  by  a 
ball  before.  You  look  as  if,  like  Adrien,  you  are  in  a 
frame  of  mind  to  have  found  the  ashes  very  appropriate 
to-day." 

"  Yes,"  said  Diane  a  little  listlessly  :  "  I  am  used  up. 
Evidently  gayety  does  not  agree  with  me.  As  I  told  you 
this  morning,  Octave,  I  think  I  must  go  home.  I  am  too 
much  of  a  country  mouse  to  enjoy  dissipation." 

"  But  there  is  no  need  to  run  away  from  dissipation,  now 
that  the  Car&me  is  here.  We  shall  be  quiet  enough  after 
this,  never  fear.  You  did  not  look  very  much  like  a  coun- 
try mouse  last  night.  It  has  been  long  since  Rex  has  had 
such  a  beautiful  queen,  or  such  a  magnificent  one  either. 
What  superb  diamonds  those  were  that  you  wore  !  Every 
one  noticed  them." 

"  They  are  family  jewels,"  answered  Diane  quietly. 
"  They  belonged  to  my  great  great-grandmother." 

"  I  thought  they  must  be  family  jewels,  because  the  set- 
ting is  evidently  old.  I  wonder  you  have  not  had  them 
reset.  They  would  gain  so  much  in  brilliancy." 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  295 

"  Perhaps  we  may  have  them  reset  some  day.  Until 
now  we  have  had  many  more  important  things  to  think 
of." 

"  I  wonder/'  said  Octave  again — and  she  suddenly  sat 
erect  with  the  energy  of  her  thought — "  that  you  did  not 
buy  your  release  from  Burnham  with  those  jewels,  instead 
of  taking  into  consideration  the  sacrifice  of  yourself.  They 
must  be  nearly,  if  not  quite,  valuable  enough  to  have  paid 
the  debt/' 

"  But  we  did  not  have  them  then,"  said  Diane  without 
reflection. 

"  Oh  !  I  thought  you  said  they  belonged  to  your  great- 
great-grandmother.  " 

"  So  I  did" — blushing  suddenly  ;  "  but,  all  the  same, 
they  have  only  lately  come  into  our  possession." 

"  Ah  1" 

Octave  could  hardly  restrain  the  further  questions  which 
burned,  as  it  were,  upon  her  tongue.  But  she  remembered 
that  she  touched  the  skirt  of  a  mystery  which  was 
already  making  so  much  trouble,  and  she  forbore.  More 
and  more,  however,  did  this  mystery  torment  and  puzzle 
her.  What  could  be  the  meaning  of  it  ?  Was  it  only 
folly,  or  was  there  really  something  very  strange — anything 
wrong  was  impossible — at  the  bottom  of  it  ?  She  said  to 
herself  that  lasting  misapprehensions  often  result  from  lack 
of  plain-speaking,  and  she  was  determined  that  she  would 
try  if  a  little  of  this  plain-speaking  could  not  sweep  away 
the  misunderstanding  between  her  brother  and  her  friend. 

"Diane, "she  said  suddenly,  "you  will  be  angry  per- 
haps, but  I  cannot  help  it.  I  must  tell  you  that  I  have 
heard  from  Adrien  what  occurred  between  you  and  him 
last  night,  and  that  I  am  very  sorry." 

Diane  started,  for  she  was  not  expecting  this,  and  looked 


296  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

at  her  with  eyes  in  which  there  was  nothing  of  anger,  but 
only  a  pained  wistfulness. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  sorry,  too,  Octave,"  she  replied  simply. 
"  But  that  does  not  help  the  matter." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  does — it  must,  Diane  !"  cried  Octave  eager- 
ly. "  If  you  are  sorry,  everything  is  possible  ;  for  I  assure 
you  that  he  is  sorry  too.  And  out  of  two  sorrows  joy 
should  come." 

"  Not  necessarily — not  unless  there  is  more  than  mere 
sorrow  in  the  case." 

"  And  there  is  more — there  is  love.  Can  you  deny  it? 
I  know  that  he  loves  you,  and  I  believe  that  you  love 
him." 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  love  without  faith,"  said 
Diane  proudly.  "  I  would  not  believe  any  man  who  de- 
clared in  the  same  breath  that  he  loved  and  that  he  dis- 
trusted me.  What  he  calls  love  is  a  sentiment  not  worthy 
of  the  name." 

"Diane,  Diane,"  said  Octave  warningly,  "don't  be  so 
foolish  as  to  ask  what  men  are  not  capable  of  giving.  We 
give  the  kind  of  faith  you  ask,  but  they  do  not.  Their 
love  is  always  jealous.  And  it  is  not  just  to  say  that  Adrien 
distrusts  you.  He  is  only  deeply  wounded  that  you  will 
not  give  him  the  confidence  which  you  give  a  stranger." 

"  What  stranger  ?" 

"  Mr.  Atherton." 

"  You  are  mistaken.  I  have  given  him  no  confidence. 
He  knows  no  more  than  any  one  else,  except  that  he  has 
met  the — person  called  De  Marsillac. ' ' 

"  And  who  is  that  person,  Diane  ?  See,  I  am  bold  enough 
to  ask  the  question  which  is  in  the  mind  of  every  one.  I 
am  bold  enough  to  tell  you  that  you  cannot  maintain  this 
mystery ;  that  it  is  a  folly  and  a  mistake,  since  the  world 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  297 

always  puts  the  worst  possible  construction  on  what  is  con- 
cealed." 

"  You  have  learned  your  lesson  well,  Octave.  That  is 
just  what  your  brother  said  tome  last  night ;  and  I  tell  you 
now  what  1  told  him  then  :  that  the  world  has  nothing  to 
do  with  a  reticence  which  we  choose  to  maintain  on  our 
private  affairs  ;  and  that  while  I  would  willingly  give  con- 
fidence to  those  who  trust  me,  I  will  never  satisfy  the  curi- 
osity of  those  who  make  such  confidence  a  condition  of 
trust." 

"  0  Diane  !  if  you  spoke  to  Adrien  in  that  manner,  it  is 
no  wonder  he  was  hurt. " 

"And  how  else  should  I  have  spoken  to  him?"  asked 
Diane,  with  the  same  air  of  pride.  "  Should  I  violate  the 
confidence  of  others  in  order  to  satisfy  Adrien  that  a  mat- 
ter in  which  my  mother — mind,  my  mother  ! — is  concerned 
is  altogether  honorable  ?  I  do  not  think  you  appreciate 
how  deeply  offensive  his  doubts  are." 

"  Again  you  are  unjust.  I  am  sure  he  has  never  thought 
of  such  doubts  as  you  suggest.  Can't  you  understand— will 
you  not  understand—  that  he  is  simply  wounded  that  you 
do  not  think  him  worthy  of  your  trust  ?  And  I  will  not 
deny  that  he  is  also  jealous  of  this  unknown  man  who 
seems  to  have  done  so  much  for  you." 

Diane's  gesture  seemed  to  signify  perfect  indifference  on 
the  last  point ;  and,  after  waiting  a  moment  for  reply, 
Octave  pleadingly  went  on  : 

"  Diane,  it  is  a  little  thing  to  ask  after  all  our  friend- 
ship :  tell  me  who  this  man  is." 

Diane  looked  at  her  pale  and  resolute. 

"  Octave,"  she  said  gravely,  "  I  would  tell  you  in  a  mo- 
ment, if  it  were  not  that  to  tell  you  is  the  same  as  telling 
your  brother,  and  that  I  cannot  do.  It  would  be  to  say 


298  THE   MAN   OF   THE  FAMILY. 

that  I  accept  his  love  without  his  trust,  and  to  this  I  will 
never  condescend." 

"  You  are  throwing  away  his  happiness  and  your  own  by 
such  foolish  obstinacy." 

' '  And  what  is  he  doing  ?  The  first  demand  was  on  his 
side.  He  did  not  ask  my  love,  and  leave  me  to  give  my 
confidence  as  a  natural  result  of  giving  that ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  he  made  the  confidence  a  condition  of  deigning 
to  offer  his  love  at  all." 

"  Diane  !" 

"  That  is  an  exact  statement  of  the  case,  Octave.  And 
now,  if  you  please,  we  will  say  no  more  about  it." 

She  rose  as  she  spoke  and  left  the  room  ;  while  Octave, 
clasping  her  hands,  lifted  her  eyes  towards  the  ceiling  and 
cried  again  in  heartfelt  tones  : 

"  Quelle  b&ise /" . 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  I  WONDER  why  I  am  staying  here  ?" 

It  was  Atherton  who  made  this  remark  to  himself,  as  he 
sat  in  his  pleasant  sitting-room  in  the  Hotel  Royal,  near  a 
bright  coal  fire,  and  looked  out  through  a  window  beside 
him  at  the  quaint,  red-tiled  roofs  of  the  ancient  buildings, 
with  their  green-painted  iron  balconies,  across  the  narrow 
street.  He  liked  his  quarters  ;  and  the  old  French  city 
had  laid  her  fascination  upon  him,  as  she  lays  it  upon  all 
who  are  able  to  appreciate  what  is  antique,  picturesque, 
and  as  far  as  possible  removed  from  the  crudity  and  color- 
lessness  of  ordinary  American  life.  But  it  was  certain  that 
this  was  not  the  climate  recommended  to  him  by  the  doc- 


THE   MAN"   OF  THE   FAMILY.  299 

tors  who  had  ordered  him  to  the  West  Indies.  Although 
nothing  can  be  more  charming  than  the  winter  climate  of 
New  Orleans  when  the  weather  is  fine,  nothing  can  be 
more  disagreeable  when,  as  often  happens,  it  is  bad.  And 
very  bad  it  chanced  to  be  at  present.  The  sky  at  which 
he  gazed  was  of  a  cheerless  gray,  lowering  over  the  perspec- 
tive of  roofs  and  chimneys  ;  and  it  was  not  necessary  to 
venture  forth  to  be  aware  that  the  atmosphere  was  of  a 
most  penetrating  dampness.  A  greater  contrast  could  not 
be  imagined  to  the  brightness  of  the  day  preceding — the 
day  of  uproarious  Carnival  gayety  ;  but  such  changes  are 
an  established  feature  of  the  New  Orleans  climate. 

It  was  natural  that  the  change  should  have  depressed 
Atherton,  especially  when  taken  in  connection  with  other 
things.  He  had  just  finished  reading  a  letter  from  his 
father  urging  him  to  return  to  the  tropics — to  Cuba, 
Jamaica,  Santo  Domingo — anywhere  he  liked  so  that  he 
quitted  at  once  a  climate  so  likely  to  do  him  harm.  And 
while  he  had  little  disposition  to  set  forth  again  upon  a 
round  of  travel  without  interest  or  occupation,  he  told  him- 
self that  he  had  as  little  inclination  to  remain  where  he 
was.  In  fact,  a  sense  of  disappointment  altgether  dispro- 
portioned  to  the  cause  that  roused  it  weighed  upon  him. 
He  had  come  here  for  two  purposes — to  trace  out  the  mys- 
tery of  the  boy  who  had  accepted  his  help  and  then  so  un- 
gratefully vanished,  and  to  warn  the  people  whose  inherit- 
ance he  had  assisted  to  place  in  the  hands  of  one  who  was 
possibly  a  robber  and  an  impostor.  And  he  had  failed  in 
both  objects.  He  had  not  traced  the  boy— the  mystery  sur- 
rounding him  was  as  deep  as  ever  ;  and  he  had  found  his 
warning  to  the  descendants  of  Henri  de  Marsillac  alto- 
gether unnecessary.  The  treasure  had  passed  into  their 
hands — he  had  ocular  proof  of  that  in  the  diamonds  which 


300  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

the  night  before  had  flashed  upon  Diane- s  neck — and  he 
occupied  in  their  eyes  the  unenviable  position  of  one  who 
officiously  meddled  with  what  did  not  concern  him. 

Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  of  it,  there  was  nothing  what- 
ever to  keep  him  here.  Even  Diane — he  would  be  quite 
frank  with  himself — even  Diane  had  disappointed  him. 
His  curiosity  to  see  her  had  been  excited  by  the  certainty 
that  she  was  indeed  the  Diane  of  whom  he  and  the  boy  had 
talked  as  they  went  upon  their  treasure-quest  ;  the  beauti- 
ful maiden  ready  for  self-sacrifice,  whose  ransom  they  were 
seeking.  He  had  said  many  fanciful  things  of  her  then, 
and  some  of  them  returned  to  his  mind  when  he  found 
that  there  was  really  such  a  person.  He  had  gone  to  see 
her,  expecting  he  hardly  knew  what,  but  chiefly  perhaps  to 
find  one  who  would  remind  him  of  the  boy  he  had  lost  :  to 
see  in  feminine  guise  the  charming  face,  the  beautiful  eyes, 
the  frank  lips  that  had  so  entered  into  his  heart  that  even 
indignation  could  not  cast  them  out.  And  he  found  Diane 
totally  different.  Beautiful,  yes — beautiful  in  the  style 
which  had  been  described  to  him — but  totally  unlike  the 
picture  he  had  made  for  himself  of  what  she  would  be,  and 
hence  to  him  a  disappointment. 

So  he,  too,  had  his  share  of  those  ashes  of  Mercredi  des 
Cendres  which  Adrien  Varigny  found  so  appropriate,  and 
liked  the  taste  of  them  as  little  as  any  other  son  of  man. 
Life  indeed  seemed  very  tasteless  altogether,  as  it  stretched 
before  him  in  immediate  perspective.  What  was  he  to  do 
with  himself  ?  Where  was  he  to  find  an  interest  to  occupy 
the  existence  which  for  some  time  he  must  spend  in  seek- 
ing for  health,  or  in  at  least  averting  disease  ?  The  ques- 
tion carried  his  mind  back  to  the  pleasure  he  had  taken  in 
the  adventure  in  search  of  the  buried  treasure  ;  but  it  was 
too  much  to  hope  for  anything  like  that  again.  If  he  could 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  301 

only  find  the  boy,  forgive  him  his  foolish  mystery,  his  fare- 
well, and  take  him  as  a  companion,  he  might  find  idling 
tolerable — pay,  more  than  tolerable  with  one  so  sympa- 
thetic, receptive,  and  attractive.  But  plainly  this  was  not 
,to  be  hoped  for  either  ;  although  he  never  strolled  through 
the  narrow,  dark  streets  and  passages,  like  bits  of  old  Paris, 
without  looking  to  see  the  lithe  young  figure  and  pic- 
turesque face  emerge  from  some  shadowy  court  or  archway. 

Thoughts  of  this  kind  led  him  to  put  out  his  hand  and 
take  up  a  large  portfolio  lying  on  a  table  near,  which  con- 
tained the  photographs  he  had  made  in  Hayti.  Turning 
them  over,  he  found  one  which  represented  the  spot  at 
Millefleurs  where  the  treasure  had  been  found — that  green, 
enclosed  circle  of  the  garden,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood 
the  old  sun-dial.  And  by  the  side  of  the  sun-dial,  with  one 
hand  laid  upon  it,  was  the  figure  of  the  boy,  whom  he  had 
insisted  on  photographing.  As  he  looked  at  the  picture  he 
recalled  what  a  degree  of  insistence  had  been  necessary  to 
induce  him  to  allow  himself  to  be  taken,  and  his  reluctance 
appeared  very  significant  in  the  light  of  later  events.  "  He 
did  not  want  to  leave  anything  by  means  of  which  he  might 
be  identified,"  Atherton  said  to  himself,  with  an  intelli- 
gence in  which  he  had  been  lacking  at  the  time.  "  I  re- 
member now  that,  making  an  excuse  of  the  sunshine,  he 
even  drew  his  hat  low  upon  his  brow,  so  as  to  shade  his  face 
deeply.  But  he  did  not  succeed  in  rendering  the  picture 
unrecognizable.  It  is  dark,  but  it  is  he.  There  is  no  mis- 
taking it." 

He  looked  at  it  intently,  full  of  the  recollections  which 
it  aroused,  and  with  his  yearning  towards  the  original — the 
strong  affection  he  had  conceived  for  him — hardly  lessened 
by  this  evident  proof  that  his  disappearance  was  premedi- 
tated even  then.  It  was  still  in  his  hand  when  a  knock  at 


302  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

the  door  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant  with  a 
card. 

"  Mr.  Varigny,"  he  said,  reading  it.     "  Show  him  up." 

Five  minutes  later  the  two  men  had  shaken  hands  and 
were  seated  before  the  leaping  brightness  of  the  fire. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  find  you  in,"  said  Varigny  ;  "  for, 
since  I  understood  you  to  say  that  you  would  not  be  much 
longer  here,  I  might  not  else  have  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing you  again,  as  I  myself  am  leaving  the  city  to-morrow." 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  be  here  more  than  a  few  days 
longer,  if  so  much  as  that,"  Atherton  replied.  "  If  your 
absence  will  be  long,  you  would  not  therefore  be  likely  to 
find  me  on  your  return." 

"  I  shall  probably  be  absent  several  weeks/'  said  the 
other  ;  and  then  a  momentary  silence  fell. 

It  was  broken  by  Atherton,  who,  glancing  out  at  the 
gray  sky  and  roofs  glistening  with  dampness,  remarked  : 

"  The  heavens  seem  doing  penance  to-day  for  the  bright- 
ness with  which  they  gilded  the  gay  foolery  of  yesterday. 
It  is  fortunate  that  this  is  not  Mardi  Gras." 

"  Oddly  enough,  we  almost  invariably  have  bright 
weather  for  Mardi  Gras,"  answered  Varigny.  "  But  our 
climate  can  be  occasionally  what  Englishmen  call  c  beast- 
ly,' and  to-day  merits  the  term.  I  really  don't  wonder  you 
are  thinking  of  departure.  You  must  regret  the  tropical 
sunshine  you  lately  quitted  ?" 

"  One  fine  day  here  makes  one  unable  to  regret  any- 
thing," said  Atherton.  "But  I  believe  this  excessive 
variableness  of  climate  is  just  what  the  doctors  want  me  to 
guard  against.  So  I  must  turn  my  face  elsewhere,  al- 
though where  I  have  not  yet  determined." 

"  You  are  not  thinking  of  returning  to  the  West 
Indies  ?" 


THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  303 

'*  I  really  don't  know — I  haven't  decided  at  all.  There 
is  unfortunately  nothing  to  force  me  to  choose  one  place 
more  than  another  ;  and  I  cannot  at  this  moment  think  of 
any  place  with  sufficient  attractions  to  tempt  me. " 

"  My  knowledge  of  the  West  Indies  is  limited  to  Cuba/' 
said  Varigny  ;  "  but  I  am  told  that  some  of  the  other 
islands  are  even  more  attractive." 

"  The  gem  of  the  West  Indies  is  undoubtedly  the  island 
of  Santo  Domingo,"  returned  Atherton.  "  Nature  has 
done  absolutely  everything  for  it,  but  man  has  so  cursed  it 
that  it  is  the  saddest  spot  I  know." 

"  Were  you  in  the  French  portion,  now  called  Hayti  ?" 

"  I  left  that  part  of  the  island  only  a  few  weeks  ago." 

There  was  again  a  moment's  silence  ;  and  then  Varigny, 
with  an  apparent  carelessness  which  was  belied  by  the  ner- 
vous grasp  of  his  slender  hand  upon  the  rim  of  the  hat 
which  he  held,  observed  :  9 

"  I  have  always  felt  a  particular  interest  in  that  island, 
because  we  have  among  us  a  good  many  of  the  descendants 
of  those  who  fled  from  it  at  the  time  of  the  insurrection  of 
the  slaves.  Some  of  our  best  friends — the  Prevosts,  for 
example — are,  on  one  side  at  least,  '  San  Dominguiais.' ' 

"  The  mysterious  De  Marsillac  whom  I  met,"  said 
Atherton  quietly,  ' '  was  there  to  visit  the  old  estate  of  his 
family  ;  and  I  accompanied  him  on  the  expedition.  There" 
—he  tossed  over  the  photographs  beside  him,  and  selecting 
one,  handed  it  to  Varigny — "  is  a  picture  of  the  place  as  it 
appears  to-day." 

Varigny  received  the  photograph  eagerly  and  looked  at 
it  with  interest. 

"  It  seems  still  a  very  handsome  house,"  he  remarked  ; 
"  but  is  apparently  unoccupied." 

"It  is  a  ruin,"  Atherton  answered.     "It  has  been  a 


304  THE   MAN"   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

magnificent  house,  but  what  you  see  is  merely  a  shell. 
Within  those  walls  there  are  only  roofless  chambers  filled 
with  rich  tropical  vegetation.  The  grounds  surrounding 
it  are  of  great  extent,  and  must  once  have  been  of  extreme 
beauty,  but  they  are  now  an  overgrown  wilderness." 

"  You  have  no  other  views  of  the  place,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes,  here  is  the  best  photograph  I  made — a  view  of 
the  superb  avenue  of  palms  which  leads  from  the  gates  to 
the  house.  And  here" — after  a  perceptible  pause — "  is  a 
view  of  a  certain  spot  on  one  of  the  terraces  of  the  garden." 

When  Varigny,  laying  down  the  picture  of  the  avenue 
with  an  expression  of  admiration,  took  up  the  last  photo- 
graph offered,  Atherton,  who  was  watching  him  closely,  saw 
an  immediate  increase  of  interest  in  his  manner. 

"  Whom  does  this  figure  represent  ?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"  That,"  said  Atherton,  "  is  the  young  man  who  called 
himself  De  Marsillac,  and  whom  I  accompanied  there." 

Varigny  did  not  speak,  but  he  rose  at  once  and  carried 
the  picture  to  the  window.  Then  followed  silence  in  the 
room  for  the  space  of  two  or  three  minutes.  Atherton, 
sitting  motionless,  looked  at  the  fire,  and  said  to  himself 
that  whatever  revelation  came — and  he  had  an  instinct  of 
some  impending  revelation— it  would  not  be  of  his  seeking. 
Accident  alone  had  led  to  his  showing  this  picture  ;  and  if 
the  intense  observation  which  his  friend  was  bestowing 
upon  it  resulted  in  a  discovery  of  the  identity  of  the  bearer 
of  an  extinct  name,  this  result  would  have  no  interest  for 
him  beyond  the  natural  gratification  of  his  curiosity. 

When,  however,  Varigny  presently  turned  and  came  back 
to  the  fire,  he  was  conscious  of  a  distinct  sense  of  disap- 
pointment ;  for  plainly  his  curiosity  was  not  to  be  gratified. 
And  yet  there  had  been  a  revelation.  There  was  not  in 
his  mind  a  shade  of  doubt  of  that.  The  young  Creole  pre- 


THE   MAN"   OP   THE   FAMILY.  305 

served  unmoved  the  quiet  composure  of  his  manner,  but  he 
could  not  control  the  paleness  of  his  face,  nor  the  glow  in 
his  eyes — that  enlargement  of  the  pupils  so  significant  of 
strong  mental  emotion. 

"  It  seems,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  which  he  strove  to  ren- 
der careless,  but  in  which  Atherton  detected  the  strain  of 
effort,  "  that  this — person  was  very  young." 

"A  mere  youth,"  Atherton  replied  :  "not  more  than 
nineteen  or  twenty  years  old." 

"  And" — was  there  a  note  of  suspicion  here  ? — "  you  saw 
no  reason  to  suspect  him  of  being  anything  but  what  he 
declared  himself  while  you  were  with  him  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  No  suspicion  entered  my  mind.  "Why 
should  it  have  done  so  ?  He  seemed  a  boy  of  a  particularly 
high  type,  with  all  the  frankness  of  nature  one  usually  asso- 
ciates with  boyhood,  and  much  more  than  the  ordinary  de- 
gree of  refinement.  His  attractive  qualities  were  very 
great.  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  believe  that  he  was  in  any 
sense  an  impostor." 

"  An  impostor,  no,"  said  Varigny  thoughtfully.  "  I 
don't  think  he  was  that ;  in  fact,  we  have  Miss  Prevost's 
word  for  it  that  he  was  not." 

"  And  yet  every  one  is  agreed  there  is  no  De  Marsillac 
living." 

' '  Male  De  Marsillac,  no — at  least  not  that  we  are  aware 
of.  But  the  family  have  naturally  a  claim  to  know  more 
of  the  subject  than  others  can  ;  and,  since  they  endorse 
this — boy,  we  have  no  right  to  challenge  his  pretensions. " 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  doing  so,"  said  Atherton  stiffly. 
ci  It  is  not  a  matter  which  concerns  me  in  the  least." 

"  Pardon  me,"  returned  the  other  quickly.  "  In  say- 
ing '  we  have  no  right '  I  was  merely  using  a  form  of  speech. 
I  am  well  aware  of  the  reticence  you  have  observed  on  this 


30G  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

subject ;  and,  as  a  friend  of  the  family,  I  thank  you  for  it. 
And  now  may  1  beg  a  favor  ?  Will  you  lend  me  this  photo- 
graph for  a  few  hours  ?" 

There  was  a  pause.  Atherton  looked  keenly  at  the 
young  man  who,  full  of  irrepressible  eagerness,  stood  before 
him.  A  sudden  disinclination  to  do  anything,  or  to  allow 
anything  to  be  done,  which  could  in  any  way  harm  the  boy 
who  had  been  his  companion  in  distant  Hayti  made  itself 
felt  with  an  intensity  for  which  he  was  unprepared. 

"  Mr.  Varigny,"  he  replied  at  length,  "  I  have  just  said 
that  this  matter  does  not  concern  me  in  the  least.  But  I 
am  concerned  to  keep  a  pledge  which  I  gave  to  Miss  Pre- 
vost  last  night  :  that,  so  long  as  her  family  chose  to  main- 
tain this  mystery,  I  would  do  nothing  to  interfere  with  it." 

"Did  Miss  Prevost  ask  for  this  pledge?"  inquired 
Varigny  anxiously. 

' '  No.  It  was  altogether  voluntary  on  my  part.  Having 
seemed  to  interfere  in  their  affairs,  I  felt  bound  to  explain 
why  I  had  done  so,  and  also  to  assure  her  that  she  had  no 
further  interference  to  anticipate  from  me." 

"  And  she  said " 

"  If  I  remember  rightly,  that  she  did  not  deny  she  was 
glad  to  hear  it.  Therefore  I  am  doubly  bound — by  my 
voluntary  assurance  and  by  her  expressed  desire—to  do 
nothing  to  dissipate  a  mystery  which,  howeyer  singular  it 
may  appear  to  us,  it  is  the  wish  of  the  family  to  maintain. 
This  being  so,  I  should  not  perhaps  have  showed  you  that 
photograph — which  was  taken,  I  may  tell  you,  against  the 
strongly  expressed  wish  of  the  original  ;  and  I  hope  you 
will  not  misunderstand  me  when  I  say  that  I  cannot  allow 
you  to  carry  it  away." 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  that  I  would  use  it  to  affect 
any  one  injuriously  ?" 


THE  MAN   OF  THE  FAMILY.  307 

"  I  cannot  imagine  that  you  would — at  least  consciously. 
But  do  you  not  see  that  1  am  bound  to  maintain  discretion 
on  my  part,  without  regard  to  what  yours  might  be  ?" 

' '  If  you  knew  me  better,  you  would  not  hesitate  to 
trust  me." 

"  If  you  were  my  own  brother,  Mr.  Varigny,  I  could  not 
violate  my  pledge  for  you.  I  greatly  fear,  indeed,  from 
your  eagerness,  that  I  have  violated  it  already,  though  un- 
intentionally— that  you  recognize  the  picture." 

"  No  :  it  is  impossible  to  say  that  I  recognize  it.  I  am 
only  struck  by  a  likeness  so  strong  that  1  cannot  account 
for  it ;  and  if  I  repeat  my  request  that  you  will  let  me 
carry  the  photograph  away  for  an  hour,  it  is  only  that  I 
may  show  it  to  my  sister,  under  pledge  of  secrecy  if  you 
desire.  Believe  me" — with  great  earnestness,  as  Atherton 
still  hesitated—"  I  would  put  my  hand  into  the  fire  before 
I  would  do  anything  to  injure  or  annoy  Miss  Prevost  or  any 
of  her  family.  But  to  obtain  a  little  light  on  this  mystery 
is  very  important  to  me  ;  and  /  am  not  pledged  to  re- 
spect it." 

"  Casuistry,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  am  afraid,"  said 
Atherton,  smiling.  "  But  be  it  so.  I  cannot  refuse  to 
trust  you.  Take  the  photograph,  and  do  not  misunder- 
stand me  when  I  say  that  in  the  use  you  make  of  it  my 
honor  is  concerned  as  well  as  your  own." 

"  I  shall  remember,"  answered  the  other  gravely. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Octave,  still  seated  where  Diane 
had  left  her,  meditating  on  human  folly  in  general,  and 
that  of  the  two  persons  in  whom  she  was  immediately  inter- 


308  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

ested  in  particular,  was  very  much  surprised  by  the  speedy 
return  of  her  brother  ;  and  still  further  surprised  by  the 
unusual  excitement  of  his  manner. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked  quickly,  as  soon  as 
she  saw  him. 

He  replied  by  drawing  the  photograph  from  his  pocket 
and  handing  it  to  her. 

"  Octave,"  he  said,  "  here  is  a  likeness  of  the  unknown 
De  Marsillac.  Look  at  it  and  tell  me  if  you  have  ever  seen 
the  face  before." 

Still  more  surprised,  but  with  an  interest  equalling  her 
surprise,  Octave  received  the  photograph,  and,  like  himself, 
at  once  carried  it  to  a  window  for  the  benefit  of  all  the  light 
available  on  so  dark  a  day.  A  minute  passed  ;  then,  with- 
out turning  her  eyes  from  the  picture,  she  said  : 

"  I  think  that  papa  keeps  a  magnifying-glass  on  his  writ- 
ing-table. Go  and  bring  it  to  me." 

Her  brother  left  the  room,  and  in  a  moment  later  re- 
turned with  a  glass  in  his  hand.  She  took  it  eagerly  and 
held  it  over  the  photographed  face,  regarding  it  intently 
for  some  time  longer.  Finally  looking  up,  her  eyes  full  of 
startled  astonishment  and  incredulity,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Adrien,  if  Yvonne  Prevost  had  a  twin  brother,  I  should 
say  that  this  was  he  !" 

"  But  Yvonne  Prevost  has  no  twin  brother — no  brother 
of  any  kind,"  said  Varigny. 

"  That  is  true — but  what  a  likeness  !  Viola  and  Sebas- 
tian were  not  more  alike. ' ' 

"  Viola  and  Cesario,  perhaps  you  mean." 

"  Adrien  f    Do  you  think " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,  Octave.  It  was  for  that 
reason  I  brought  this  picture  to  you,  though  Atherton  was 
very  loath  to  let  me  have  it.  He  was  sorry  for  having 


THE   MAN"   OF   THE   FAMILY.  309 

showed  it  to  me  ;  for  it  seems  that  the  person  represented 
was  very  averse  to  being  photographed  ;  and  he  had,  more- 
over, promised  Diane  to  do  nothing  more  touching  the  mys- 
tery in  which  they  choose  to  envelop  the  identity  of  the  so- 
called  De  Marsillac.  Therefore  I  am  pledged  to  show  the 
picture  to  no  one  but  yourself,  and  you  are  pledged  to 
secrecy  regarding  it." 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  talk  of  it,"  said  Octave  with  an 
emphasis  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  she  might,  how- 
ever, do  something  besides  talk.  "  But  I  don't  understand 
— did  Mr.  Atherton  himself  take  this  photograph  ?" 

"  Certainly.  It  represents  a  scene  in  the  gardens  of  the 
old  De  Marsillac  estate  in  Hayti,  where  he  went  with  that 
—person." 

"  Why  did  they  go  there  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell  you.  He  gave  no  explanation.  He  has 
several  other  views  of  the  place,  but  this  is  the  only  one  in 
which  the  figure  enters." 

Octave  looked  at  the  figure  again  silently  for  a  moment, 
regarded  it  again  through  the  magnifying  glass,  and  then 
observed  meditatively  : 

"  And  the  person  was  reluctant  to  be  photographed  ?" 

' '  Exceedingly  reluctant,  Atherton  says  ;  and,  therefore, 
he  has  scruples  about  showing  the  picture,  joined  to  scru- 
ples about  breaking  his  promise  to  Diane." 

"  Diane,  then,  talked  to  him  on  the  subject?" 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  found  them  in  earnest  con- 
versation last  night  ?  1  never  doubted  that  they  were  talk- 
ing on  this  subject.  But  it  is  evident  that  she  did  not  give 
him  her  confidence.  He  is  as  ignorant  of  anything  con- 
cerning the  identity  of  the  mysterious  De  Marsillac  as  when 
he  first  began  his  inquiries  ;  but  has  given  a  pledge  to  her 
to  proceed  no  further  with  these  inquiries." 


310  THE   MAtf   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

"  There  is  certainly  something  exceedingly  strange  about 
the  whole  matter,' '  said  Octave.  "  I  never  heard  of  anything 
like  it  before.  The  question  of  who  is  this  De  Marsillac  is 
almost  equalled  in  mystery  by  the  other  questions  that  arise 
— as,  for  example,  what  was  he  doing  in  Hayti  at  the  old 
family  estate  ?  Why  did  Mr.  Atherton  begin  his  inquiries 
by  saying  that  the  Prevosts  had  suffered  some  injury  or  loss 
by  him  ?  And,  most  wonderful  of  all,  where  did  the  money 
to  pay  Madame  Prevost's  debt  come  from  ?  And  where 
did  Diane  obtain  diamonds  fit  for  a  queen  ?" 

Varigny  nodded  gloomily. 

"  I  saw  them,"  he  said. 

"  Saw  them  ! — the  diamonds  !  Why,  you  would  have 
had  to  be  blind  not  to  have  seen  them.  They  are  superb,  and 
would  be  twice  as  effective  if  properly  set.  The  setting  is 
very  old,  and  bears  out  her  assertion  that  they  belonged  to 
her  several  times  great-grandmother,  and  have  only  lately 
come  into  her  possession." 

"  By  what  means?" 

"  That  is  part  of  the  mystery.  She  is  absolutely  reti- 
cent about  the  means.  And  such  secretiveness  is  some- 
thing so  new  in  Diane  that  I  cannot  understand  it.  This 
picture,  however,  makes  one  thing  certain,  Adrien  :  you 
have  no  rival  to  fear  in  this  boy." 

"  It  was  never  a  question  of  a  rival  in  my  mind,"  said 
Adrien  haughtily.  "  It  was  a  question  of  Diane's  confi- 
dence." 

"  And  Diane  thinks  that  it  is  a  question  of  your  confi- 
dence, and  so  there  you  are — at  a  deadlock  !  Eh  Men,  I 
shall  now  take  hold  of  the  mystery  and  turn  it  inside  out." 

"  Octave,"  observed  Adrien  warningly,  "  remember  I 
promised  Atherton  that  no  use  would  be  made  of  this 
photograph." 


THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY.  311 

"  Here  is  the  photograph,"  said  Octave,  promptly  re- 
turning it  to  him.  "  Take  it  back  to  Mr.  Atherton  at 
once,  so  that  he  may  be  quite  sure  I  make  no  use  of  it. 
But  you  did  not  promise  that  I  should  not  use  the  knowl- 
edge it  has  given  me  ;  and  in  that  respect  I  shall  act  ac- 
cording to  my  best  judgment." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you.  If  you  don't  know  you  can't  ob- 
ject. Only  try  and  behave  to  Diane  as  if  your  relations 
were  not  hopelessly  strained ;  and  don't  forsake  the 
world  for  the  plantation  for  a  day  or  two  yet.  Now 
go." 

But  notwithstanding  the  gesture  of  dismissal  which  ac- 
companied these  words,  Varigny  lingered. 

"  Octave,"  he  said  again,  "  take  care  how  you  touch  this 
thing.  I  am  beginning  to  believe  that  there  is  very  good 
reason  for  the  reticence  of  the  Prevosts." 

"  Go  !"  said  Octave  more  imperatively  still.  "  I  don't 
ask  assistance  and  I  don't  need  advice.  Go  !" 

He  hesitated  yet  a  little  longer,  regarding  her  doubtfully 
the  while  ;  and  then,  with  a  significant  movement  of  the 
shoulders,  left  the  room. 

Thus  left  with  a  free  hand,  Octave  hardly  waited  for  the 
door  to  close  before  she  flew  to  her  writing-desk — a  pretty, 
silver-decked  affair  in  the  brightest  corner  of  the  room — 
and  dashed  off  the  following  letter,  without  giving  herself 
time  for  reflection  or  hesitation  : 

"  MY  DEAR  YVONNE  :  Knowing  the  position  you  hold 
in  your  family — more  as  if  you  were  its  head  than  one  of 
its  younger  members — I  do  not  think  I  can  do  better  than 
to  appeal  to  you  for  assistance  in  a  matter  which  concerns 
us  both  equally — since  it  touches  the  happiness  of  my 


312  THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

brother  and  of  your  sister — and  of  which  I  suspect  you  will 
never  hear  from  Diane. 

"  I  am  sure  you  believe  with  me  that  Adrien  and  her- 
self were  made  for  each  other,  and  that  they  have  both 
been  aware  of  it  for  some  time.  When  Diane  came  to  us 
for  her  present  visit,  I  was  charmed  to  think  that  the  ro- 
mance would  no  doubt  reach  its  natural  conclusion,  and 
give  us  the  gratification  of  beholding  the  course  of  true  love 
for  once  run  smooth.  But,  instead  of  this,  misunderstand- 
ings have  arisen — or,  to  be  strictly  accurate,  one  misunder- 
standing has  arisen,  of  so  serious  a  nature  that  I  fear  it  will 
prove  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to  their  happiness  unless 
it  can  be  removed.  And  for  this  reason  I  address  you, 
hoping  that  it  may  be  possible  for  you  to  assist  in  remov- 
ing it. 

"  Briefly,  then.  I  wonder  if  Diane  has  mentioned  to 
you  that  a  certain  Mr.  Atherton  has  been  here  for  several 
weeks,  inquiring  on  all  sides  for  a  mysterious  young  man 
named  De  Marsillac,  whom  he  met  in  the  West  Indies,  and 
had  reason  to  suppose  came  from  Louisiana.  Naturally, 
every  one  whom  he  met  assured  him  that  there  is  no  such 
De  Marsillac,  and  that  your  family  alone  have  any  right  to 
represent  the  name,  as  far  as  Louisiana  is  concerned. 
Then  this  gentleman,  who  seems  to  have  never  properly 
laid  to  heart  the  golden  rule  of  minding  one's  own  busi- 
ness, expressed  great  concern  lest  your  interests  should  in 
some  manner  suffer  from  the  doings  of  the  De  Marsillac 
whom  he  knew,  and  declared  that  he  possessed  important 
information  which  must  be  communicated  to  one  of  the 
Prevosts.  Diane's  arrival  seemed  to  occur  opportunely  to 
gratify  him  ;  but,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  Diane  de- 
clined to  receive  either  himself  or  his  communication  ;  de- 
clared she  stood  in  no  need  of  information  ;  knew  the  nays- 


THE  MAN  OP  THE  FAMILY.  313 

terious  De  Marsillac,  endorsed  his  doings,  and,  in  short, 
would  hear  nothing  about  him.  One  might  have  supposed 
the  matter  would  end  here,  but  no.  The  persevering 
Atherton  was  presented  to  her  at  the  Rex  ball  (oh,  if  you 
could  have  seen  how  perfectly  beautiful  she  was  that 
night  !)  ;  and,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  at  once  opened  his 
budget.  At  all  events,  Adrien  found  them  deep  in  con- 
versation ;  and,  seizing  the  first  opportunity  offered  him 
afterwards,  proceeded,  with  a  man's  delightful  tact,  to  re* 
proach  Diane  for  giving  her  confidence  to  a  stranger,  while 
withholding  it  from  himself.  This,  I  may  say  in  passing, 
was  unjust ;  for  Diane  had  given  no  confidence  to  the 
troublesome  Atherton,  his  knowledge  being  just  what  it 
was  originally — neither  more  nor  less.  But  who  expects 
reason  from  a  jealous  man  ?  And  Adrien  is  very  jealous — 
comprehensively  jealous — of  the  unknown  De  Marsillac  and 
everything  connected  with  him.  You  can  fancy  his  point 
of  view  :  '  Diane  cares  nothing  for  me  if  she  withholds  her 
confidence  from  me  ;  has  unexplained  connection  with  an 
unknown  man  who  masqueraded  under  a  name  to  which  he 
had  no  right,  and  concerning  whose  relation  to  her  family 
and  herself  she  positively  refuses  to  say  anything. '  Then 
fancy  Diane's  point  of  view  :  *  If  Adrien  loved  me,  he 
would  trust  me.  He  would  not  demand  my  confidence  in 
this  manner  ;  he  would  be  willing  that  I  should  give  or 
withhold  it  as  seemed  best  to  me  ;  but,  whichever  I  did  he 
would  never,  never  forget  himself  so  far  as  to  imagine  that 
I  could  be  in  the  wrong.'  Then  follow  high  sentiments, 
injured  dignity,  resentment,  and  final  alienation  on  both 
sides. 

"  This  is  how  the  matter  stands  at  present.  Neither 
will  yield  an  inch.  I  am  astonished  at  Diane  ;  for  she  is 
always  so  gentle  and  seems  so  easily  influenced,  but  in  this 


314  THE   MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

matter  she  will  not  be  influenced  at  all.  I  am  sure  she  is 
unhappy,  but  she  refuses  even  to  tell  me  anything  about 
this  De  Marsillac  who  is  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble  ;  and 
she  talks  of  leaving  us  in  a  day  or  two.  Of  course  Adrien 
is  miserable,  but  obstinate  as  a  mule. 

"  Now,  Yvonne,  dear  Yvonne,  you  must  know  as  well  as 
Diane  does  all  about  this  person.  Cannot  you  clear  up  the 
mystery  in  which  he  and  his  doings  are  enveloped,  and  let 
these  two  foolish  people  be  happy  ?  Mr.  Atherton  has  told 
Adrien  that  nothing  will  induce  Mm  to  make  any  further 
inquiries  or  take  a  further  step  of  any  kind  in  the  matter  ; 
so  there  is  no  revelation  to  be  looked  for  there,  and  the 
only  hope  is  in  you — in  your  common-sense  and  courage. 
Surely  there  is  nothing  in  this  matter  which  demands  con- 
cealment ;  and,  if  not,  for  the  sake  of  Diane's  happiness, 
such  concealment  should  be  ended.  I  appeal  to  you  because 
I  am  certain  that  Diane  will  never  tell  you  at  what  a  cost 
to  herself  she  is  keeping  faith  with  some  one,  and  you 
ought  to  know  it.  Don't  think  that  I  interfere  in  what 
does  not  concern  me,  but  let  me  hear  from  you  ;  and  be- 
lieve me 

' '  Ever  yours,  OCTAVE.  ' ' 

The  ink  was  hardly  dry  upon  this  impulsive  letter  when 
it  was  mailed  ;  and  Octave  then  spent  twenty-four  hours  in 
growing  alternately  hot  and  cold  with  varying  hope  and 
fear,  until  at  last  a  telegraphic  message  was  put  into  her 
hand.  She  opened  it  and  read  : 

"  Expect  me  to-morrow. 

"  YVONNE." 


THE   MAN    OF   THE   FAMILY.  315 


CHAPTEK  X. 

"  DEAR  MR.  ATHERTON  :  Will  you  take  a  cup  of  tea 
with  me  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon  ?  An  old  friend  of 
yours  wishes  to  have  the  pleasure  of  renewing  acquaintance 
with  you.  Pray  don't  fail  to  come. 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  OCTAVE  VARIGNY." 

"  Now,  what  does  that  mean  ?"  said  Atherton  to  him- 
self, when,  returning  to  his  room  after  an  absence  of  sev- 
eral hours,  he  found  this  note  on  his  table.  "  I  am  very 
certain  that  I  don't  care  for  a  cup  of  tea  with  Miss  Varigny, 
and  still  less  to  meet  any  old  friend  whom  she  has  possibly 
discovered.  Unless  indeed " 

He  paused  as  a  sudden  thought  flashed  across  his  mind. 
It  seemed  incredible,  and  yet — after  all,  perhaps  it  was  bet- 
ter to  go.  To  ignore  a  lady's  invitation  was  not  very 
courteous  ;  it  was  too  late  to  send  an  excuse  ;  and  this 
was  as  good  a  way  as  another  of  making  his  adieux,  since 
he  had  decided  to  leave  New  Orleans  the  next  day.  He 
glanced  at  his  watch.  A  quarter  to  five.  He  had  barely 
time  to  keep  the  appointment ;  and,  now  that  he  was  aware 
how  narrowly  he  had  escaped  missing  it  altogether,  he  be- 
came suddenly  conscious  that  he  would  not  have  missed  it 
for  anything. 

It  was  a  little  after  five  when  he  rang  the  door-bell  of 
the  Varigny  house,  and  was  shown  into  a  drawing-room, 
where  a  group  were  assembled,  composed  of  the  entire 
Varigny  family  and  Diane  Prevost.  As  he  entered  Octave 
came  forward  to  meet  him. 


316  THE   MAN   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

"  0  Mr.  Atherton,"  she  cried,  "  how  good  of  you  to  be 
so  punctual !  I  feared,  since  my  note  had  to  be  left,  that 
you  might  not  receive  it  in  time  ;  and  if  you  had  not  come 
I  should  have  been  so  disappointed/' 

"  Fancy,  then,  what  my  disappointment  would  have 
been,"  replied  Atherton.  "  But  I  am  rather  a  lucky  man, 
so  I  returned  to  my  hotel  barely  in  time  to  find  your  note 
and  present  myself  at  the  hour  you  designated." 

"  That  was  lucky,"  said  she  approvingly.  "  Now  come 
and  I  will  give  you  a  cup  of  tea  as  soon  as  your  greetings 
are  over." 

There  was  no  lack  of  cordiality  in  the  manner  of  any  of 
the  group,  but  Atherton  felt  something  more  than  cor- 
diality in  that  of  Octave  when  he  came  to  the  tea-table,  by 
the  side  of  which  she  had  seated  herself,  for  his  promised 
cup  of  tea.  Her  eyes  seemed  at  once  full  of  warm  approval 
and  bright  significance  as  they  rested  on  him,  while  he  was 
well  aware  that  his  own  expressed  an  unspoken  question. 
It  was  a  question  which  she  lost  no  time  in  answering. 

"  You  must  have  been  surprised  by  my  summons,"  she 
said,  as  he  sat  down  in  a  low  chair  beside  her,  fragrant, 
steaming  cup  in  hand.  "  But  I  thought  the  hint  of  an  old 
friend  would  be  sufficient  to  bring  you." 

"Do  you  think,"  he  remarked,  not  unmindful  of  the 
obligations  of  gallantry,  "  that  anything  more  than  your 
kind  invitation  was  necessary  to  bring  me  ?  Yet  I  must 
confess  to  some  curiosity  concerning  the  old  friend.  I  am 
unable  to  imagine  who  it  can  be." 

"  Are  you  indeed  ?"  she  asked  with  evident  surprise. 
"  Why,  I  fancied  you  would  guess  at  once." 

"  It  is  hardly  possible,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  intently, 
' '  that  it  can  be " 

"  One  whom  you  fancied  mysteriously  lost  ?    Why  not  ? 


THE   MAtf   OF  THE   FAMILY.  317 

To  the  fairies  Determination  and  Good  Will  all  things  are 
possible. " 

"  I  begin  to  believe  that  you  are  the  embodiment  of  those 
fairies,"  said  he.  "  But  tell  me " 

"  No,"  she  interrupted  quickly  ;  "  I  can  tell  you  noth- 
ing. In  fact,  I  have  only  time  to  speak  to  the  assembled 
company  before  your — our  friend  arrives." 

She  sprang  lightly  to  her  feet  and  stood  erect — a  charm- 
ing figure,  full  of  animation  and  enjoyment  of  the  situa- 
tion, tapping  with  a  spoon  against  the  delicate  china  of  her 
teacup  to  attract  attention.  Every  one  looked  at  her,  her 
father  and  mother  smiling  as  at  the  gay  nonsense  of  a 
child  ;  Diane  with  surprise,  and  Adrien  with  distinct  ap- 
prehension. He  alone  divined — and  feared — the  subject 
on  which  she  was  about  to  speak. 

"  Since  it  is  in  compliance  with  my  request  that  you  are 
all  gathered  here  at  this  special  moment,"  the  clear  young 
voice  began,  "  I  wish  to  tell  you  for  what  purpose  I  have 
made  the  request.  Every  one  present  is  aware  that  we 
have  heard  much  lately  of  a  certain  unknown  person  called 
De  Marsillac"  (Diane  perceptibly  started)  ;  "  and  some  of 
us  are  also  aware  that  the  mystery  surrounding  this  person 
has  been  of  a  nature  to  produce  many — ah — misunderstand- 
ings. This  being  so,  it  seems  well  that  the  mystery  should  be 
ended  ;  and,  therefore,  I  have  been  requested  by  the  person 
in  question,  Monsieur  Henri  de  Marsillac ' ' 

"  Octave  !"  It  was  an  exclamation  from  Diane  which 
thus  stopped  the  speaker  at  the  very  point  and  peroration 
of  her  address  ;  and  Diane  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  haste 
and  energy  foreign  to  her  usual  movements.  "  I  forbid 
you  to  go  on  !"  she  cried.  "  You  have  no  right " 

"Pardon  me,"  returned  Octave;  "I  have  a  right.  I 
speak,  as  I  have  already  said,  by  the  request  of " 


318  THE    MAtf   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

"  It  is  impossible — it  cannot  be  true  !"  interposed 
Diane  passionately.  "  And  if  it  is  true,  I  will  not  per- 
mit it." 

"  Diane,"  said  the  other  quietly,  "  you  have  no  right 
to  interfere." 

"  I  have  every  right,"  answered  Diane,  with  the  same 
strange  passionateness.  "It  is  you  who  have  no  right  to 
interfere — as  you  have  interfered,  as  you  know  that  you 
have  interfered  !" 

"  I  interfered  no  further  than  to  tell  the  person  most 
concerned  that  this  mystery  was  causing  trouble " 

"  To  whom  ?"  inquired  Diane,  lifting  her  head  proud- 
ly. "  Who  besides  ourselves  was  concerned  in  our  mystery 
— if  you  choose  to  call  it  a  mystery  ?  I  call  it  merely  a  re- 
serve which  we  had  a  right  to  maintain  about  what  con- 
cerned ourselves  alone.  Do  you  imagine,"  cried  the  girl, 
with  a  sudden  lightning  flash  of  her  eyes  upon  Varigny, 
"  that  /  was  troubled,  or  that  I  would  condescend  to  grat- 
ify curiosity,  reward  distrust " 

Up  to  this  instant  the  rest  of  the  group  had  sat  mo- 
tionless ;  listening,  astonished,  and  uncomprehending,  to 
the  dialogue  between  the  two  who  understood  each  other. 
But  the  last  words,  together  with  Diane's  scornful  tone, 
were  understood  by  another,  and  suddenly  Varigny  rose. 

"  Diane,"  he  said,  coming  to  her  side,  "you  cannot 
think  that  I  had  anything  to  do  with  this  ?" 

Diane  gave  him  another  lightning  glance. 

"How  do  I  know?"  she  asked.  "One  who  has  no 
faith,  no  confidence,  might  well  take  any  means " 

"  Say  no  more,"  he  interposed  quietly.  "  Let  me  only 
show  you  once  for  all  whether  or  not  I  have  confidence. ' ' 
He  took  her  hand.  "  Come  with  me  to  the  library,"  he 
said.  "  We  will  leave  Octave  to  give  or  withhold  as  she 


THE  MAN   OF  THE  FAMILY.  319 

pleases  revelations  which  I  agree  with  you  in  thinking  that 
she  has  no  right  to  make." 

"  She  has  no  right,"  repeated  Diane  ;  "  and  I  will  not 
permit  them  to  be  made." 

"  I  never  intended  to  make  any  revelations,"  said  Octave. 
"  I  leave  that  for  one  whom  you  cannot  deny  has  such  a 
right ;  one  who  has  promised  to  be  here  ;  one" — as  the 
sound  of  a  carriage  driving  up  to  the  door  was  heard — 
"  who  is  here." 

"  Come  !"  said  Varigny  again,  in  an  imperative  tone, 
to  Diane.  "  For  myself,  I  will  know  nothing  which  you  do 
not  wish  to  tell  me — neither  now  nor  at  any  other  time." 

He  led  her  as  he  spoke  from  the  room — not  into  the 
hall,  where  there  was  now  a  sound  of  some  one  being  ad- 
mitted, but  through  a  curtain-hung  archway  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  apartment  into  a  room  beyond,  whence  it  was 
evident  that  they  quickly  passed,  since  the  sound  of  a  clos- 
ing door  was  heard  just  as  the  door  of  the  drawing-room 
opened  and  a  servant's  voice  announced  : 

"  M.  de  Marsillac." 

It  is  impossible  adequately  to  describe  the  thrill  which 
was  felt  by  those  whose  expectation  and  interest  had  been 
BO  curiously  and  unexpectedly  heightened  by  Diane's  pro- 
test and  by  the  withdrawal  of  herself  and  Varigny,  when 
that  name  was  heard,  and  when  there  entered  a  slender, 
graceful  youth,  with  deer-like  head  and  easy,  buoyant  step, 
carrying  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

Madame  Varigny  sat  motionless,  gazing  at  him  intently  ; 
the  Colonel  put  up  his  pince-nez  to  see  more  clearly  ;  Oc- 
tave stood  still,  with  the  air  of  one  who  enjoys  a  scene 
which  has  been  carefully  prepared  ;  and  it  was  Atherton 
who,  putting  down  his  teacup  with  a  haste  which  almost 
upset  it,  rose  and  went  forward  impulsively. 


320 

"  Henri  !"  he  cried,  extending  his  hand  with  a  gesture 
of  welcome.  "  I  thought  that  I  had  lost  yon  forever." 

"  Can  you  ever  forgive  the  manner  in  which  I  treated 
you,  Mr.  Atherton  ?"  asked  the  well-remembered  voice,  as 
the  equally  well-remembered  eyes  looked  up  at  him  wistful 
and  appealing.  "  I  assure  you  I  have  not  been  able  to  for- 
give myself." 

"  You  must  have  had  a  very  strong  reason  for  acting  in 
such  a  manner,"  said  Atherton,  regarding  him  with  a  de- 
light that  surprised  himself,  and  conscious  that  for  the 
pleasure  of  this  meeting  he  was  ready  to  forgive  anything. 

"  A  very  strong  reason,  yes,"  the  other  replied  in  a  low 
tone.  "  You  shall  judge  for  yourself  how  strong." 

He  gave  the  hand  which  held  his  own  a  quick,  nervous 
pressure,  then  dropped  it ;  and,  passing  Atherton  by,  went 
directly  to  Madame  Varigny,  who  still  sat  motionless,  with 
an  expression  of  mingled  astonishment  and  incredulity 
upon  her  countenance. 

"  Does  not  Madame  Varigny  know  me  ?"  he  asked,  paus- 
ing before  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  gravely,  almost  sternly.  "  You 
are  Yvonne  ;  and  this  is  a  kind  of  acting  which  I  confess 
myself  altogether  unable  to  appreciate." 

"  Yvonne  !"  cried  Colonel  Varigny. 

He  made  a  quick  stride  forward,  and  taking  hold  of  the 
slender  young  figure,  turned  it  around,  with  the  face 
towards  the  light.  The  boy — to  use  the  term  once  more — 
did  not  shrink  from  his  scrutiny.  The  graceful  head  was 
thrown  slightly  back,  as  that  of  one  who  has  no  cause  for 
shame  ;  and  the  frank  brown  eyes  met  unwaveringly  those 
keenly  bent  upon  them. 

The  Colonel  murmured  a  French  oath  under  his  white 
mustache. 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  321 

"  It  is  Yvonne  !"  he  said  then.  "  But  who  could  have 
imagined  it  ?  My  dear,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?" 

'That   is   what   I  have   come  to   tell  you, "  answered 
Yvonne. 

She  did  not  glance  towards  Atherton  as  she  spoke.  It 
was  only  Octave  who  observed  how  his  astonishment  had 
the  effect  of  causing  a  complete  physical  collapse.  He 
absolutely  dropped  into  the  nearest  chair,  as  if  the  surprise 
had  been  a  veritable  blow.  Meanwhile  Yvonne,  taking 
Colonel  Varigny'3  hand  in  hers,  drew  him  back  to  where 
his  wife  sat. 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  in  clear,  sweet  tones,  that  were  dis- 
tinctly audible  to  every  ear,  "  that  Madame  Varigny  disap- 
proves of  me,  and  she  is  quite  right.  Nothing  but  the  most 
extreme  necessity  would  justify  my  assuming  this  dress  and 
doing  what  I  have  done.  If  I  had  nothing  more  to  justify 
me  than  a  daring  spirit,  a  love  of  adventure,  or  even  a  de- 
sire for  fortune,  I  could  neither  hold  myself  excused  nor 
ask  any  one  else  to  excuse  me.  But  I  had  much  more. 
And  I  have  come  to  tell  you,  because  you  are  all  my 
friends" — and  here  for  an  instant  her  glance  rested  on 
Atherton — "  what  induced  me  to  undertake  a  venture  so 
wild  and  a  risk  so  great.  But  where" — she  turned  to  Oc- 
tave— "  are  Diane  and  your  brother?" 

"  They  left  the  room  as  you  entered  it,"  answered  Oc- 
tave, who  felt  keenly  how  ranch  her  dramatic  scene  lacked 
completeness  by  the  absence  of  the  two  persons  for  whose 
benefit  it  had  primarily  been  arranged.  "  Diane  resents 
what  she  calls  my  interference,  and  vehemently  objects  to 
any  revelation  on  your  part ;  while  Adrien  thought  the 
eleventh  hour  not  too  late  to  display  a  chivalrous  confi- 
dence, by  refusing  to  hear  anything  she  did  not  sanction." 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  said  Yvonne.     "He  will  know 


322  THE   MAtf   OF  THE   FAMILY. 

everything  from  Diane  instead  of  from  me,  that  is  all.  She 
will  feel  at  liberty  to  speak  now  ;  and  will  speak  more  will- 
ingly because  he  has  given,  even  late,  this  proof  of  confi- 
dence. You  were  right  in  thinking  that  she  was  bound  by 
a  pledge  of  secrecy  before  ;  and  bound,  no  doubt,  by  her 
own  pride  also." 

"And  is  it  possible,"  said  Colonel  Varigny  solemnly, 
putting  on  his  pince-nez  again  to  regard  the  speaker,  "  that 
you  are  the  De  Marsillac  of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much, 
who  was  in  the  West  Indies  with  this — this  gentleman  here  ?" 

"  He  can  bear  witness  that  I  am/'  replied  Yvonne,  with 
another  momentary  glance  towards  Atherton.  "  No  one 
could  know  better  ;  for  without  his  assistance  I  should 
have  failed  in  all  I  went  to  do.  But  let  me  tell  you  my 
story  from  the  beginning.  I  want  to  end  all  mystery  and 
misunderstanding,  and  induce  Madame  Varigny,  as  I  hope 
I  shall,  to  look  at  me  more  kindly." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  look  at  you  unkindly,  Yvonne,"  said 
Madame  Varigny  ;  "  but  you  cannot  expect  me  to  pretend 
to  approve  a  thing  which  fills  me  with  horror.  That  you, 
a  French  girl,  brought  up  as  our  daughters  are,  should 
have  put  on  man's  dress  and  gone  alone  to  the  West 
Indies " 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Yvonne,  as  the  lady  paused  in  a  man- 
ner which  said  more  than  any  words.  "  It  is,  on  the  face 
of  it,  a  dreadful  thing  that  I,  a  French  girl  as  you  say, 
brought  up  as  only  French  girls  are,  should  have  put  on 
man's  dress  and  gone  alone  to  the  West  Indies.  I  acknowl- 
edge it,  and  I  felt  it — ah,  you  can  never  guess  how  much  ! 
But  there  was  one  thing  even  more  dreadful,  and  that  was 
not  to  go." 

"  Tell  us  what  you  mean,  my  dear,"  said  Colonel 
Varigny  gently. 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  323 

Yvonne  looked  at  him  gratefully.  To  plead  a  cause  to 
unsympathetic  auditors  is  very  difficult,  and  she  saw  that 
she  had  no  sympathy  to  expect  from  Madame  Varigny  until 
her  case  was  fully  proved — if  even  then.  But  here  was  an 
auditor  who  was  prepared  to  judge  kindly.  Yvonne  was 
proudly  conscious  that  there  was  nothing  in  her  conduct, 
except  its  unconventionality,  which  needed  condoning  ; 
but,  still,  she  had  a  sense  of  comfort  in  addressing  this  lis- 
tener, who  stood  ready  to  sympathize  rather  than  condemn. 

"I  am  anxious  to  tell  you  what  I  mean,"  she  said. 
"To  be  brief,  then.  I  am  sure  you  know  of  my  mother's 
pecuniary  embarrassments.  We  never  talked  of  them  to 
our  friends,  but  they  were  very  great.  Year  by  year  the 
burden  of  our  difficulties  grew  heavier  and  the  problem  of 
life  harder.  Every  sacrifice  that  could  be  made  was  made, 
every  self-denial  practised.  With  the  plantation  I  did  all 
that  could  be  done  without  command  of  money " 

Colonel  Varigny  nodded. 

"  You  did  well,"  he  said  emphatically.  "  No  man  could 
have  done  better.  It  was  not  without  reason  they  called 
you  on  Bayou  Teche  '  the  man  of  the  family.' ' 

"I  suppose,"  Yvonne  went  on,  "that  from  filling  so 
many  of  what  are  usually  a  man's  duties,  I  came  to  have  a 
man's  thoughts,  as  far  as  the  family  were  concerned.  I 
had  a  knowledge  of  our  affairs  which  no  one  else  possessed, 
not  even  Diane,  because  mamma  consulted  me  about  every- 
thing ;  and  I  had  a  sense  of  responsibility  towards  the 
others,  and  a  passionate  longing  to  do  something  to  remove 
the  weight  of  our  troubles  from  my  mother  and  to  improve 
our  almost  hopeless  situation.  I  always  said  to  myself  that 
if  ever  a  chance  arose  by  which  I  could  do  something,  no 
matter  how  hard,  to  gain  those  ends,  I  would  do  it  at  any 
cost.  And  I  meant  what  I  said." 


324  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

Those  looking  at  her  and  listening  to  her  were  of  the 
opinion  that  she  had  fully  proved  that  she  meant  what  she 
said. 

"  Of  course  you  understand,"  she  continued,  "  that  the 
great  trouble  was  debt — debt  which  we  could  not  pay, 
struggle  as  we  might.  And  the  worst  debt  of  all  was  one 
for  which  the  plantation — all  that  we  had  for  our  support 
— was  mortgaged  to  a  man  without  mercy.  You  know 
him.  His  name  is  Burnham  and  he  is  the  son  of  my  grand- 
father's overseer." 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Colonel  Varigny,  this  time  grimly. 
' '  Every  one  knows  him.  He  is,  as  you  say,  without  mercy. ' ' 

"  Well,  you  can  fancy  what  it  was  to  be  indebted  to  such 
a  man,  and  to  have  the  debt  always  hanging  over  us.  Last 
November  he  came  to  my  mother  and  told  her  that  the 
debt  must  be  paid,  or  the  mortgage  would  be  foreclosed. 
He  offered  her,  however,  one  alternative,  and  that  was  to 
accept  his  son  as  a  husband  for  Diane." 

"  Yvonne  !"  cried  Madame  Varigny,  and  "  Yvonne  !" 
gasped  the  Colonel ;  while  both  added  in  a  breath,  ' '  Im- 
possible !" 

"  It  sounds  like  an  old-fashioned  melodrama,  does  it 
not?"  said  Yvonne.  "  But  it  is  true,  nevertheless.  Diane, 
our  Diane — think  of  it  ! — had  been  chosen  by  this  low-born 
usurer  as  the  wife  of  his  son  ;  on  the  condition  of  which 
marriage  he  would  graciously  leave  my  mother  in  possession 
of  her  home  during  her  life.  My  mother  had  but  one  im- 
pulse— to  reject  the  proposal  at  once  and  let  him  do  his 
worst.  But  he  insisted  that  she  should  take  time  for  con- 
sideration, and  that  Diane  should  be  consulted.  We  con- 
sulted her,  never  thinking  it  more  than  a  mere  form  ;  but, 
to  our  horror,  Diane  declared  that  she  would  marry  the 
man.  She  said  that  it  was  the  only  thing  she  could  do  to 


THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY.  325 

relieve  my  mother  of  troubles  she  had  heretofore  witnessed 
helplessly,  and  that  she  was  resolved  to  do  it.  Neither 
argument  nor  remonstrance  had  any  effect  upon  her  ;  for, 
gentle  as  she  is,  Diane  can  be  very  obstinate — 

"  There  is  not  a  doubt  of  that,"  observed  Octave. 

"  The  only  concession  we  could  gain  was  that  she  would 
take  no  step  to  let  the  Burnhams  know  her  resolve  for 
three  months  ;  and  I  promised  her — I  think,  indeed,  I  took 
a  solemn  oath — that  within  that  time  I  would,  by  God's 
help,  obtain  the  means  to  pay  the  debt,  and  so  release  her 
from  what  she  held  to  be  the  necessity  to  sacrifice  herself. 
When  I  made  this  promise  I  had  no  idea  how  I  should  keep 
it ;  but  a  few  hours  later  God — as  I  truly  believe — showed 
me  the  way.  I  found  in  an  old  desk  some  papers  relating 
to  the  estates  which  my  great-great-grandfather  lost  in 
Santo  Domingo  ;  and  there  among  those  papers,  never  seen 
by  any  one  until  I  discovered  it,  was  a  paper  written  by 
Henri  de  Marsillac,  telling  his  family  that  on  the  night  of 
the  insurrection  of  the  slaves,  having  need  to  fly  for  his 
life,  he  had  buried  in  the  garden  a  large  sum  of  money 
which  he  had  then  in  his  possession,  and  indicating  the 
exact  spot  where  it  was  to  be  found.  Was  it  not  natural 
to  believe  that  the  money  thus  buried  still  remained  undis- 
turbed where  he  had  placed  it  ?" 

"  There  was  at  least  a  strong  possibility  that  it  might  be 
so,"  replied  Colonel  Varigny,  at  whom  she  looked.  "  A 
probability  strong  enough  to  justify  you  in  sending  some 
one  to  search " 

"Ah  !"  she  interposed  quickly,  "but  where  was  that 
some  one  to  be  found  ?  We  have  not  a  man  belonging  to 
us.  There  was  no  friend  of  whom  we  could  ask  so  great 
a  service ;  and  to  send  any  agent  save  the  most  trust- 
worthy would  have  been  madness.  I  knew  all  this  per- 


326  THE    MAN"   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

fectly,  and  I  never  thought  of  but  one  thing — to  go  my- 
self." 

"  Yvonne,  Yvonne  !"  murmured  Madame  Varigny,  as  if 
in  late  remonstrance. 

"  I  told  my  mother  so,"  said  Yvonne,  turning  her  beau- 
tiful, wistful  eyes  upon  the  last  speaker  ;  "  and  she  de- 
clared it  was  impossible,  asking  how  could  a  girl  go  alone 
and  unprotected  on  such  an  errand.  And  then  it  was  that, 
like  an  inspiration,  the  thought  came  to  me  of  this'1 — she 
made  a  gesture  indicating  her  masculine  attire.  "  I  said 
that  if  I  could  not  go  as  a  girl  I  could  go  as  a  boy.  I  had 
always  felt  as  if  I  were  a  boy,  and  I  knew  that  the  dress 
would  be  a  complete  disguise  and  protection.  Indeed — 
think  of  it  for  a  moment  ! — how  could  I  have  gone  other- 
wise ?  Who  was  there  to  accompany  me,  who  to  protect 
me?  I  am  not  speaking  only  of  conventionality,  of  the 
convenances  which  a  French  girl  is  brought  up  so  strictly 
to  respect.  It  was  more  than  a  question  of  a  chaperon  :  it 
was  a  question  of  absolute  danger — such  danger  as  no  girl 
could  dare  alone."  She  turned  and  for  the  first  time  ad- 
dressed her  most  silent  auditor.  "Mr.  Atherton,"  she 
said,  "  will  you  tell  them  whether  or  not  I  could  have  done 
what  I  did  as  a  girl  ?" 

As  if  this  were  the  appeal  for  which  he  had  been  waiting, 
Atherton  rose  and  came  forward  to  her  side. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  you  could  not.  This  revelation," 
he  went  on,  addressing  Madame  Varigny,  '  is  a  greater 
astonishment  to  me  than  to  you  ;  but,  with  my  knowledge 
of  what  it  was  that  was  undertaken,  what  difficulties  sur- 
rounded, and  what  absolute  peril  had  to  be  risked  in  order 
to  accomplish  it,  I  emphatically  endorse  all  that  has  been 
said.  It  was  not  possible  for  any  girl,  no  matter  how  brave, 
to  have  undertaken  it." 


THE   MAN   OF   THE   FAMILY.  327 

•'And  yet,"  said  Madame  Varigny,  smiling  in  spite 
of  herself,  "  it  was  a  girl  who  did  undertake  it." 

Athertori  cast  a  confused  glance  upon  the  figure  by  his 
side. 

"  So  I  am  told,"  he  said  ;  "  but  even  yet  it  is  difficult 
for  me  to  believe  it — difficult  to  credit  that  the  boy  who 
bore  himself  so  bravely  even  for  a  boy,  through  scenes 
which  I  shudder  to  recall,  was,  after  all,  a  girl.  I  do  not 
know  what  judgment  you  may  have  for  such  a  deed,"  he 
added,  looking  around  the  little  circle  ;  "  but  to  me  it 
seems  nothing  less  than  heroic." 

"  And  so  it  was  !"  exclaimed  Colonel  Varigny,  bringing 
his  hand  down  with  emphasis  upon  the  mantel-shelf,  by 
which  he  stood.  "  I  never  heard  of  anything  so  brave  in 
all  my  life.  And  you  succeeded,  Yvonne — you  succeeded  ?" 

Yvonne  made  a  gesture  of  her  hand  towards  Atherton. 

"  Thanks  to  him,  yes,"  she  answered.  "  I  found  the 
money  which  freed  my  mother  and  Diane  ;  but  I  could 
never  have  found  it  without  his  aid.  And  do  you  not 
think  now/'  she  added,  addressing  still  wistfully  Madame 
Varigny,  "  that  there  is  something  to  be  said  for  me — that 
I  had  reason  enough  to  justify  even  such  a  step  ?" 

Madame  Varigny's  answer  was  to  rise  and  take  her  in  her 
arms. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  Mr.  Atherton  is  right :  it  was 
nothing  less  than  heroic.  I  admire  and  love  you  with  all 
my  heart.  But,  all  the  same,  we  must  not  allow  this  to  be 
known  by  the  world,  which  respects  conventionalities  more 
than  heroic  deeds.  You  will  now  come  and  lay  aside  this 
dress  forever  ;  and  Mr.  Atherton' ' — she  looked  at  him  with 
a  smile  so  warm  that  it  was  like  sunshine — "  must  dine 
with  us  this  evening,  in  order  that  he  may  forget  Henri  de 
Marsillac,  and  meet — Miss  Prevost." 


328  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"  FORGET  Henri  de  Marsillac,  and  meet — Miss  Prevost." 
These  words  had  not  once  ceased  to  echo  through  Ather- 
ton's  mind,  like  a  refrain  of  which  he  hardly  understood 
the  meaning,  during  the  interval  of  time  which  elapsed  be- 
tween his  departure  from  the  Varigny  house  and  his  return 
there,  in  accordance  with  Madame  Varigny's  invitation,  for 
dinner.  Forget  the  boy  whom  he  had  taken  into  his  heart, 
against  whom  his  indignation  had  been  so  deeply  stirred, 
and  yet  whom  he  had  never  ceased  to  regard  with  affection, 
and  find  instead — a  young  lady  !  The  thought  was  bewil- 
dering ;  and  not  less  bewildering  was  his  attempt  to  read- 
just his  mental  attitude  towards  the  person  whose  identity 
had  so  suddenly  and  completely  changed.  He  was  conscious 
chiefly  of  a  mingled  sense  of  exasperation  and  admiration 
— exasperation  that  the  boy  who  had  taken  so  deep  a  hold 
of  his  fancy  was  vanished  out  of  existence,  had  never  in- 
deed existed  at  all  ;  and  admiration  for  the  girl  whose  dar- 
ing had  been  equal  to  such  a  task,  and  whose  courage  never 
failed  in  its  execution. 

Looking  back  on  the  past,  he  found  himself  indeed  lost 
in  wonder  at  the  manner  in  which  she  had  sustained  her 
part  without  faltering — sustained  it  so  completely  as  not  to 
excite  his  suspicion  in  the  'faintest  degree.  Never  had  he 
for  a  moment  thought  of  his  companion  as  anything  but  a 
boy,  delicate,  imaginative,  fanciful  perhaps,  but  altogether 
virile.  And  lo  !  all  the  time  that  companion  had  been  a 
girl.  And  not  a  girl  who  had  been  brought  up  without  the 
restraints  and  protections  that  in  another  day  were  deemed 
essential  for  girlhood,  who  had  been  thrown  upon  the 


THE   MAtf   OF   THE   FAMILY.  329 

world  and  forced  to  acquire  independence  of  habit  and 
thought ;  but  a  girl  who  came  out  of  the  heart  of  a  country 
and  a  race  where  old  traditions  are  still  in  force,  where 
conventionalities  are  not  relaxed,  and  the  steps  of  a  maiden 
of  good  birth  are  still  hedged  with  restrictions.  A  girl  who 
had  never  gone  beyond  the  shelter  of  her  home  unprotect- 
ed ;  who,  despite  her  dauntless  courage,  knew  no  more  of 
the  world  than  a  child,  and  shrank  from  all  knowledge  of 
its  rude  reality  as  only  a  woman  so  constituted  and  so 
trained  can  shrink  ;  yet  who,  putting  aside  all  shrinking 
and  all  fear,  took  a  step  from  which  the  boldest  of  the  New 
Womanhood  might  draw  back,  and  passed  unscathed  as 
Una  through  the  perils  which  encompassed  her  venture. 

Thinking  over  it  all,  the  heart  of  the  man  thrilled  with 
admiration,  wonder,  and  yet  exasperation,  too.  How  great 
must  have  been  the  power  of  love  and  the  rare  quality  of 
self-forgetfulness  which  could  nerve  such  a  woman  to  such 
an  undertaking  !  How  truly  heroic  was  the  deed — and  yet 
how  mad  !  What  if  she  had  been  discovered  !  What  if 
she  had  not  met  himself  !  What  if  he  had  been  murdered 
on  the  night  when  death  passed  so  near  to  them  in  the  re- 
mote Haytian  mountains  !  How  mad  it  was,  and  yet — 
there  could  be  no  question — bow  heroic  ! 

It  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  made  up  of  these  sentiments 
that  he  returned  to  the  Varigny  house,  and  was  shown  into 
the  drawing-room,  where  the  revelation  of  the  afternoon 
had  been  made  ;  and  where,  instead  of  long  shafts  of  sun- 
light, there  now  reigned  a  soft  glow  of  lamplight  and  fire- 
light. In  the  first  moment  of  his  entrance  the  room 
seemed  to  him  empty — waiting,  in  its  luxurious  spacious- 
ness, its  air  of  a  transplanted  Parisian  interior,  for  the  life 
that  was  to  fill  it— when  suddenly  a  figure  arose  from  a 
shaded  corner  and  came  towards  him. 


330  THE    MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

He  paused,  holding  his  breath.  Was  ever  transforma- 
tion so  complete,  and  was  ever  likeness  so  great  ?  No,  he 
had  not  lost  the  boy  whom  he  had  known  and  loved. 
Here  was  the  same  face,  identical  and  unchanged,  that  had 
smiled  upon  him  through  all  their  journeyings  ;  the  same 
eyes  that  had  met  his  so  frankly  and  so  kindly  a  hundred 
times,  although  it  was  a  young  lady,  clad  in  shimmering 
silk  and  cloud-like  lace,  who  bore  this  well-remembered 
head  upon  her  slender  neck,  and  extended  to  him  the  hand 
he  had  once  declared  too  small  for  any  practical  purpose, 
but  which  now  proved  that  it  was  not  too  small  to  give  a 
grasp  of  warmest  friendship. 

"It  is  not  '  Miss  Prevost,'  "  she  said,  answering  his 
thoughts  as  if  they  had  been  spoken  ;  "  it  is  '  Henri  de 
Marsillac '  to  you,  Mr.  Atherton,  always — always  !" 

"  But  what  if  I  prefer  Miss  Prevost?"  he  said,  with  a 
sudden  rush  of  feeling  which  seemed  to  clear  away  all  be- 
wilderment and  all  conflicting  sentiment.  "  Henri  de  Mar- 
sillac was  a  delightful  boy,  and  how  much  I  have  grieved 
for  his  loss  I  can  never  tell  you  ;  but  Miss  Prevost" — he 
paused  a  moment — "  is  all  that  he  was  and  more  besides. 
For  what  would  have  been  merely  daring  in  him  takes  the 
higher  name  of  heroism  in  her. " 

"  Thank  you  !"  she  said  softly.  "  I  have  often  wondered 
what  you  would  think  if  you  knew  the  truth.  I  have  won- 
dered if  you  would  be  horror-struck,  disgusted  perhaps  ;  or 
if  you  would  think  that  the  necessity  justified  the  deed,  as 
it  seemed  to  me  that  it  did." 

"  I  not  only  think  that  it  justified  the  deed/'  he  an- 
swered, "  but  I  can  hardly  credit  my  own  good  fortune  in 
having  met  a  woman  capable  of  such  a  deed.  Do  you  re- 
member what  I  said  to  you  once — on  the  terrace  of  Mille- 
fleurs — about  the  type  of  woman  I  had  always  dreamed  of  ? 


THE   MAtf   OF  THE   FAMILY.  331 

I  little  thought  that  I  was  speaking  to  one  who  fulfilled 
the  type,  as  well  as  bore  the  name  which  suggested  it." 

"  I  remember,"  she  said.  "  Your  words  comforted  me 
at  the  time  ;  and  made  me  hope  that,  if  some  day  you 
should  learn  the  truth,  you  would  not  judge  too  hardly 
one  whom  you  had  helped  so  kindly. ' ' 

"  And  yet/'  said  he,  almost  sternly,  "  you  went  out  of 
my  life  without  a  word  of  explanation  ;  you  cast  me  aside 
like  a  tool  you  had  used,  and  for  which  your  use  was  over  ; 
you  were  content  never  to  see  or  hear  of  me  ag'ain " 

"  No,  no  !"  she  cried,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears.  "  I 
was  not  content.  It  seemed  a  necessity,  but  it  almost 
broke  my  heart.  I  have  been  wretched  ever  since,  with 
the  sense  of  my  ingratitude — so  wretched  that  all  pleasure 
in  my  success  was  obliterated.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I 
have  thought,  what  I  have  felt ;  but  I  can  tell  you  that 
the  necessity  to  speak,  to  explain  the  mystery  at  last,  made 
me  happier  than  I  have  been  since  we  parted." 

"  But  it  was  not  for  me  you  spoke  at  last.  It  was  for 
your  sister,  whose  happiness  this  mystery  menaced " 

"  In  learning  that,  I  learned  also  for  the  first  time  of 
your  presence  here.  To  serve  the  other  purpose,  would 
not  a  few  words  to  Adrien  Varigny  have  sufficed  ?  But  I 
heard  that  you  were  here  ;  and  I  could  not  but  come,  to 
give,  even  so  late,  the  confidence  you  had  won  a  hundred 
times  over. " 

"  And  for  which  I  am  a  hundred  times  grateful,'*  he  re- 
plied. "  It  has  not  come  a  moment  too  soon.  I  was  going 
away  to-morrow,  going  to  a  life  of  lonely  wandering,  going 
to  try  and  banish  forever  from  my  mind  the  boy  I  had 
grown  to  love.  But  now  life  takes  another  color  and 
meaning.  I  have  recovered  all  that  I  lost,  together  with 
much  more,  that  my  heart  divined,  though  I  was  too  dull 


332  THE   MAN   OF   THE    FAMILY. 

to  understand.  But  I  understand  now.  And  you,  too, 
Yvonne — for  I  cannot  but  call  you  by  the  name  that  seems 
made  for  you — you,  too,  understand  ;  is  it  not  so  ?  We 
were  friends  and  comrades  when  we  were  together,  but  has 
not  separation  taught  us  that  we  are  something  more  ? 
Has  it  not  made  you  feel,  as  it  has  surely  made  me,  that 
our  meeting  was  no  chance,  and  that  we  have  need  of  each 
other?" 

She  gave  him  one  quick,  radiant  glance  from  moisture- 
dimmed  eyes,  as  he  took  her  hand  again. 

"  But  I  thought  it  was  to  be  Diane,"  she  murmured  ; 
"  and  I  have  grieved  to  think  that  you  would  be — disap- 
pointed. " 

He  laughed  as  he  bent  to  kiss  the  hand  he  held. 

"It  was  only  to  be  Diane,"  he  replied,  "  because  I 
dreamed  of  her  as  Yvonne.  The  disappointment  came 
when  I  found  she  was  not  Yvonne.  But  now  I  have 
Yvonne  herself." 

"  Have  you  ?"  said  Yvonne.  "  I  am  not  sure  of  that. 
For,  after  all,  what  do  you  know  of  her  ?  It  is  Henri  de 
Marsillac  whom  you  want." 

"  It  is  you,"  he  answered,  "  whatever  you  choose  to  call 
yourself.  Yes,  I  want  Henri  de  Marsillac,  my  friend,  my 
companion,  the  boy  who  took  such  lodging  in  my  heart 
that  not  even  anger  availed  to  cast  him  out.  But,  still 
more,  I  want  Yvonne,  the  lady  of  my  dreams,  with  the 
courage  of  a  man  and  the  heart  of  a  woman  ;  tender, 
heroic,  daring — ah,  words  are  too  poor  to  say  what  I  think 
of  her  and  how  much  I  want  her  !" 

"But/'  she  said,  "can  you  ever  forget  that  I  mas- 
queraded in  boy's  attire " 

"  I  can  never  wish  to  forget  it,"  he  answered  indignant- 
ly. "  Forget  the  deed  which  does  you  so  much  honor, 


THE   MAtf   OF   THE    FAMILY.  333 

through  which  I  knew  you,  for  which  I  love  you  !  Ah, 
Yvonne,  this  is  folly  !  My  heart  is  yours — has  been  yours 
all  along  by  some  subtle  instinct  of  its  own,  although  I  did 
not  know  it.  Tell  me  if  you  will  take  it  now — if  you  will 
give  me  back  my  lost  companion — if  you  will  make  my  life 
worth  living  by  sharing  it  with  me  ?" 

The  brave  lady  of  his  dreams  would  have  had  "  no  cun- 
ning to  be  strange"  when  wooed  by  one  to  whose  suit  her 
heart  responded,  and  neither  had  Yvonne.  As  simple  and 
direct  now  as  in  every  action  of  her  life,  her  frank  eyes  met 
his,  lovelier  than  ever  in  the  light  which  filled  them,  as 
she  said  : 

"  It  would  make  me  happy  to  share  your  life — I  have 
known  that  ever  since  we  parted.  I  have  missed  you  every 
day,  every  hour.  But  you — I  have  just  heard  from  Diane 
what  would  have  almost  broken  my  heart  had  I  heard  it 
earlier  :  that  you  were  so  angry  with  me,  so  determined  to 
cast  even  my  memory  out  of  your  life,  that  you  wanted  to 
send  back  to  me  the  one  poor  little  token  of  me  which  you 
possessed — the  ring  I  gave  you." 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  I  did  want  to  send  it  back  ;  for  I 
was  furiously  angry  with  you.  But  should  I  have  been 
angry  if  I  had  not  cared  for  you  so  much  ?  Have  you  yet 
to  learn  how  near  akin  sometimes  are  anger  and  love  ?  As 
for  the  ring,  I  will  wear  it  even  in  my  grave  if  you  will  let 
me  give  you  another — a  ruby  it  shall  also  be,  to  tell  you 
what  love  is  by  the  deep  fire  in  its  heart." 

"  Give  me  what  you  please,"  she  said  simply.  "  I  can 
promise  that  nothing  will  ever  make  me  desire  to  send  it 
back  to  you — no,  not  if  you  went  away  to-morrow  and 
never  returned." 

"  There  is  not  much  danger  of  such  departure  on  my 
part  now,"  he  laughed.  "  When  I  go  you  shall  go  with 


334  THE   MAN"    OF   THE   FAMILY. 

me,  Yvonne  ;  and  we  will  sail  around  the  world,  as  I  once 
suggested  that  we  should — do  you  remember  ?" 

Yvonne  suddenly  started. 

"  Oh,  what  a  selfish  wretch  I  am  !"  she  said,  as  if  to  her- 
self. "I  told  you  then,  and  it  is  as  true  now,  that  they 
could  not  do  without  me  at  home." 

"  They  must  learn  to  do  without  you,"  said  he,  with  tri- 
umphant selfishness.  "  I  need  you  more  than  they  do  ; 
for  no  one  could  take  your  place  with  me,  while  with  them 
it  may  be  filled.  And  I  will  take  care,  Yvonne,  that  it  is 
filled  while  we  are  putting  a  girdle  around  the  earth." 

The  opening  of  the  door  at  this  moment  prevented  reply. 
It  was  Octave  who  entered  ;  and  towards  her  Atherton, 
turning,  led  Yvonne. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "  since  you  have  kindly  played 
the  part  of  those  fairies,  Determination  and  Good  Will,  of 
which  you  spoke  a  little  while  ago,  and  have  by  your  act 
ended  a  mystery  which  threatened  the  happiness  of  more 
than  two,  it  is  fitting  that  you  should  be  the  first  to  hear 
of  the  immediate  consequence  of  what  you  have  done." 

"  I  have  already  heard  of  one  immediate  consequence, 
which  amply  repays  me  for  my  efforts,"  answered  Octave  ; 
"  but  if  it  is  possible  that  there  can  be  another ' 

She  paused  and  looked  inquiringly  at  Yvonne  ;  but  it 
was  Atherton  who  replied  : 

"  Can  a  good  fairy  doubt  what  is  the  end  ?  We  heard 
this  afternoon  the  story  of  a  girl's  high-hearted  daring. 
Let  me  add  the  sequel  of  a  man's  appreciation.  Miss  Pre- 
vost  is  good  enough  to  believe  that  in  the  journey  which 
we  made  together  we  learned  enough  of  each  other  to  ven- 
ture the  longer  journey  of  life  also  together." 

"  Yvonne  ! — is  it  indeed  so  ?"  cried  Octave,  flinging  her 
arms  impulsively  around  the  slender  form.  "  Oh,  how  de- 


THE    MAN"   OF   THE   FAMILY.  335 

lightful  !  how  romantic  !  how  perfectly  appropriate  !  This 
is  better  than  I  ever  hoped  or  dreamed.  It  is  what  should 
be  ;  it  makes  everything  proper  and  right,  and  ends  the 
story  fitly.  But  how  did  you  find  time  to  fall  in  love  with 
each  other  while  you  were  searching  for  that  treasure  ?" 

"  It  was  then  we  learned  to  know  each  other,"  answered 
Yvonne.  "  Who  does  one  know  half  so  well  as  the  person 
with  whom  one  has  shared  adventure  and  danger  ?" 

"  I  must  take  your  word  for  that,"  said  Octave  ;  "  be- 
cause I  have  never  shared  adventure  and  danger  with  any- 
body, and  I  fear  there  is  not  the  slightest  hope  that  I  ever 
shall.  0  Yvonne,  are  there  no  more  treasures  to  be  found 
by  another  girl,  who  would  almost  die  of  pleasure  if  Fate 
would  grant  her  such  an  adventure  and  such  a  romance  ?" 

"  There  is  some  silver  plate  which  was  left  behind,"  re- 
plied Yvonne,  smiling  ;  "  but  I  would  hardly  advise  your 
going  to  seek  it.  You  see,  you  might  not  meet  another 
paladin.  I  doubt  if  there  is  another  to  be  found." 

"  I  doubt  it  also,"  said  Octave.  "  Well,  one  must  not 
be  envious.  You  were  made  to  do  brave  deeds,  and  it  is 
right  that  romance  should  crown  heroism.  Mr.  Atherton," 
turning  to  that  gentleman,  "  I  acknowledge  that  you  are  a 
paladin  and  deserve  your  reward  ;  but  I  hope  that  you  fitly 
appreciate  what  you  have  won  in  winning  our  Yvonne." 

"  I  think,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  do  appreciate  it ;  but 
my  life,  not  my  words,  must  prove  my  assertion.  Mean- 
while she  has,  once  for  all,  resigned  her  position  as  the 
man  of  the  family  in  my  favor — 

"  Ah,  no  !"  cried  Octave.  "  You  are  too  late  in  apply- 
ing for  the  position.  It  is  already  taken.  Yvonne,  have 
you  not  told  him  ?  Does  he  not  know  that  Adrien  has  al- 
ready been  accepted  to  fill  that  place  ?" 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  what  you  intimate,"  replied 


336  THE   MAN    OF   THE    FAMILY. 

Atherton,  smiling  ;  "  but  I  must  deny  that  any  one  save 
the  person  who  has  already  filled  the  position  can  ascept  a 
substitute  for  herself." 

"Here  he  comes,"  said  Octave,  turning  around  as  the 
door  again  opened.  "  Now  you  can  settle  it  between  you. " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  settle,"  said  Atherton,  as  Varigny 
came  forward.  "  I  offer  my  warmest  congratulations  to 
one  who  has  won  so  fair  a  bride  as  Mademoiselle  Diane  ; 
but  I  must  still  contend  that  the  position  which  Yvonne  has 
held,  Yvonne  can  alone  bestow — together  with  herself." 


THE    END. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  SERIES 

STORIES  OF  COLLEGE  LIFE 

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G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS, 

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style  that  the  author  has  shown.  There  is  more  purpose  and  thought 
in  it  than  in  the  other  books: " — Boston  Globe. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  best  told  stories  of  its  kind  we  have  read,  and  the 
reader  will  not  be  able  to  guess  its  ending  easily.  It  is  ingeniously 
worked  out  without  giving  away  the  true  solution,  and  those  who 
enjoy  a  well-written  detective  story  should  not  fail  to  read  it." — 
Boston  Times. 

Sn  BrtiSt  in  Crime.     I6mo,  $1.00;  paper  sects. 

"One  may  safely  say  that  it  ranks  with  the  best  detective  novels 
yet  published  in  this  country." — Boston  Times. 

"  'An  Artist  in  Crime'  is  the  best  detective  story  which  has  been 
published  in  several  years." — New  Haven  Palladium. 

!H  Conflict  Of  Evidence.     i6mo,  $1.00  ;  paper  50  cts. 

"  This  particular  book  is  the  best  of  its  kind  and  just  what  its  title 
sets  forth.  .  .  .  It  is  a  masterpiece  of  consistent  theory,  and  will 
bear  reading  at  any  time  and  in  any  place." — Omaha  Excelsior. 

"  An  ingenious  novel  of  the  detective  type.  .  .  .  The  whole 
book  is  one  of  interest,  both  in  construction  and  in  literary  execution, 
vastly  superior  to  most  of  its  general  class." — New  York  Advertiser. 

a  dfcO&em  THHiSarO.     i6mo,  $1.00  ;  paper  sects. 

"  The  plot  is  ingeniously  constructed,  and  the  book  is  intensely 
exciting." — Saturday  Evening  Gazette,  Boston. 

"The  story  is  ingenious,  the  characters  are  dramatic,  and  the 
evolution  of  the  plot  is  natural." — Boston  Times. 

<B.  JX  putnam^  Sons 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


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